


Well No One Told You

by JulyRuby731



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Feels, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyRuby731/pseuds/JulyRuby731
Summary: Basically the Friends AU that nobody asked for. At the suggestion of her coworker, Clarke moves into an apartment  with Bellamy and Octavia Blake after she ends a longterm relationship. She's quickly absorbed into their extended friend group (most of whom live conveniently across the hall) and learns to deal with her handsome but insufferable new roommate. Expect updates once a week





	1. The one Where Clarke Moves in

Chapter 1

Monty brings up the apartment two weeks after Clarke’s break up with Wells. She had been complaining for a week about staying with her mother, though she hadn’t expected Monty to be listening. Abby and Kane definitely have the space in their loft, but Clarke’s already beginning to feel stifled. She hasn't lived at home since before college and has grown accustomed to the space between them, especially since her father’s death. Even so, the apartment hunt has been slow as Clarke is still hesitant to admit that her and Wells are really over and that she needs to find a new place. 

“My neighbors are looking for a roommate,” Monty tells her as they’re eating soft pretzels on the roof of the hospital. It’s the end of May, on the cusp of becoming too hot for them to sit comfortably in the afternoon sun, but for now its perfect. 

“Oh?” Clarke only half listens, immersed in her ‘lunch.’ Her father always said there was no better combination than a soft pretzel and an aching soul. 

“Yeah, Miller actually used to live there.”

“Miller? Your boyfriend?” Clarke puts down the food, her interest peaked. Monty has always been pretty quiet about his relationship with the policeman who Clarke has only met on one occasion. Clarke half remembers Monty explaining that they had met since they lived in the same building, but she had no idea he lived across the hall. She definitely needed to get the full story one day. 

“He’s moving in with me,” Monty explains.

“Monty!” Clarke exclaims, “You didn't tell me!”

“It’s pretty recent,” Monty smiles sheepishly, “he hasn't even fully moved out yet but they’re trying to find someone to fill his room.”

“Oh?” Clarke is still unsure why Monty’s bringing this up.

“I told them about you.”

“What?” Clarke asks around a mouthful of bread. Her and Monty have been friends since they both began their residencies, her in surgery and him in radiology, but she didn't think they were help-each-other-find-apartment friends yet.

“I just said I had a friend who needed a new place,” he shrugs, “they said you can come by and take a look whenever. You’ve been to my apartment before, right?” Clarke had been to Monty’s apartment and admitted that she had been a little envious of his commute time. Living in Manhattan was amazing, but as convenient as it was for Wells, it was a hike for her to make it to Brooklyn each day.

“I don’t know,” Clarke says, hesitantly. “Who are they? Your neighbors, I mean.”

“Octavia and Bellamy Blake.”

“They’re married?” Monty laughs.

“Siblings. Bellamy’s a professor at Brooklyn College and Octavia’s about to be a senior there.”

“That must be an interesting situation.” She tries to imagine her college aged self living with an older brother. She tries to imagine having a sibling at all, the closest thing was Wells when they were children but that definitely moved past sibling territory…

“You’d love Octavia,” Monty assures her, “ and Bellamy is…well he’s Bellamy. He grows on everyone.” That doesn't sound too promising to Clarke, but it isn't like she currently has any other options. There’s no harm in seeing the apartment and any friends of Monty’s can’t be too bad. 

“If I agree to check it out will you give me your other mustard?” Monty quickly tosses the yellow packet in her lap, smiling.  
…

After her shift on Thursday, Clarke takes the subway to the apartment building, the Ark. Monty is still at the hospital, but gave her the building code and an assurance that the Blake’s will be waiting for her. However, after several knocks and no answer, Clarke is beginning to doubt the entire situation. She weighs her options: knock more, call Monty, or leave. She’s seriously considering the final option when she turns around to look at the apartment across the hall. She’s already here, Clarke reasons. She had been to Monty’s apartment twice and had met his roommate, Jasper, a couple of time. He was funny and good natured, if anything this could be a chance to say hi to him before leaving. Clarke prays that Jasper’s home and not just Monty’s kind but intimidating boyfriend. Luckily, she is met by the gangly twenty six year old. 

“Clarke,” Jasper seems surprised but happy to see her.

“Hey,” she chuckles, “sorry to intrude, I know Monty isn't here but I’m supposed to check out Miller’s old apartment and no one seems to be home.”

“Really? I thought I heard Octavia get back a while ago.” Jasper holds his door open more and beckons her inside. She stands awkwardly in the kitchen as he fiddles with his phone.

“She isn't responding, but Bellamy said she should be there and that he’ll be back soon anyway.”

“I can come another time,” Clarke offers, “it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re already here,” Jasper shrugs, “and between you and me they need a new roommate ASAP.”

“And why is that?” Clarke asks.

“The Blakes are closer than any siblings I know, but they should not be left without buffers for too long. Octavia’s practically been living here since Miller moved to escape Bellamy.”

“Is that supposed to encourage me to take the apartment?” Clarke asks skeptically.

“Oh you’’ll love them!” Jasper quickly adds, grabbing a key from the rack. He motions her back into the hall towards 1008.

“You have a key?” Clarke asks as he unlocks the door.

“For emergencies,” he shrugs, “and for fun.” Clarke is worried about entering the apartment, but Jasper moves with such confidence that she follows without protest.

“O!” Jasper calls into the seemingly empty apartment. Clarke is taken aback by how homey the place is. The kitchen cabinets are a bright teal, standing out against the brick walls. Pictures and notes litter the refrigerator, but Clarke can only half make out the people in them from her position. A vase of wildflowers sits on the table and empty mugs seem to rest on every surface. Clarke immediately feels that she could see herself living here. There’s even a window seat!

It’s nothing like her and Wells’ apartment in Manhattan which was furnished by her mother’s guidance in a modern and minimalist style. The only hints of color had been her artwork which was displayed throughout. She wonders, briefly, if Wells will remove the paintings. A sudden scream pulls her attention to the room Jasper’s just walked into.

“What the fuck?” A feminine voice cries from inside. Jasper jumps back into the main room, a hand covering his eyes. Clarke rushes over to inspect the commotion.

“What’s wrong?” She asks but stops when she sees the two naked figures on the bed, both scrambling to cover themselves.

“Don’t you check your phone?” Jasper asks, hands still shielding his eyes. “Or literally remember anything?”

“What are you talking about?” The girl who Clarke assumes is Octavia asks, wrapping a throw around herself like a towel.

“Um, prospective roommate,” Jasper gestures to Clarke, who’s still standing in awe of Octavia. Her first thought is that she’s beautiful. As is her large and tattooed bedmate. 

“Oh my god,” Octavia balks, “I totally forgot.” She rushes towards Clarke as her companion remains in bed, obviously unsure of what to do.

“God,” Octavia laughs, “what you must think of me.” 

“It’s alright,” Clarke smiles, “I can come back later if-”

“No! No, just let me get dressed and I can show you around!” Octavia offers. “And then buy you dinner for traumatizing you.”

“What about me?” Jasper asks. Octavia ignores him with an eye roll and continues looking at Clarke, an expectant expression on her face. 

“If it isn't any trouble,” Clarke says, unsure that she (or anyone else) could say no to this girl. 

“Great, give me five minutes! Jasper, make her some coffee,” before either can respond, the door is closed. 

“Classic O,” Jasper chuckles as he moves towards the kitchen nook. 

“Is she always like that?” Clarke asks.

“Naked? Eh, fifty fifty. Not when Bellamy’s around.” By the time Octavia reemerges in jeans and a tank top, Jasper has poured Clarke a cup of coffee in a Star Wars mug. The large man is also dressed beside her. 

“Hi again,” Octavia smiles at Clarke warmly. “Oh, this is Lincoln, by the way,” she gestures at her companion.

“Nice to meet you both,” Clarke says.  
“Ok boys, get out of our hair,” Octavia waves a dismissive hand as she approaches Clarke. Both leave without complaint, Jasper muttering a goodbye to Clarke before they disappear into the hall. Without Jasper’s presence, Clarke suddenly feels very exposed in front of Octavia. It’s ridiculous, she tells herself, she saw the girl completely naked a few minutes ago, why does she feel embarrassed?  
“So should we start with a tour and then converse over food?” Octavia asks, pouring hew own cup of coffee. 

“Uh, sure.”

“Well this is obviously the main room,” she motions around the space, “and it functions as the kitchen, dining room, and living room. You can see here we have all the modern amenities including a dishwasher, microwave, coffee maker, and toaster. We also have a washer and dryer in that closet, so no laundromats for us.” Octavia beams at Clarke, obviously excited about the washer. Clarke doesn't mention that she’s never been to a laundromat in her entire life. Octavia moves closer to the couch and proudly points at the sofa. 

“In the living area we have what is arguably the most comfortable couch in the entire world, along with a slightly less comfortable love seat and an old man recliner that Bellamy salvaged off the curb one day. We don't have cable but the tv is hooked up to Netflix and HBO and the guys’ gaming system. Miller cleared some space on the bookshelves that you're welcome to fill before Bellamy notices and claims it with biographies of dead people or almanacs from the twentieth century.” Clarke chuckles at the faces Octavia makes. “Seriously, wait until you meet him. Bellamy is like an eighty year old trapped in a twenty seven year old’s body.”

“Twenty seven?” Clarke asks. “That’s pretty young to be a professor.” Clarke had imagined the elder Blake to be in his mid-30s. 

“It’s his first year,” Octavia explains, “he’s gonna work on his doctorate there.” Octavia doesn't seem fazed that Clarke knows her brother’s profession. She wonders what Monty has told them about her. Octavia continues the tour in the “dining room section” in front of the window seat Clarke admired upon first walking in.

“This is the bathroom, but Bellamy has an en-suite off his room, so you’d only have to share with me. The tub’s actually pretty phenomenal, great for taking baths,” Octavia eyes Clarke for a moment. “You strike me as a bath person.”

“I have been known to enjoy a soak now and then,” Clarke admits, thinking about the jacuzzi tub in her old apartment. She shakes the thought away as an image of her and Wells in the tub enters her mind. Octavia finally leads her to the room that once belonged to Monty’s boyfriend. It’s smaller than she’s used to, but not too small. There is a lot of natural light and an ok sized closet for New York. Clarke can picture her stuff in here, can picture herself in here, but she’s still unsure about her roommates. Octavia seems nice and charming, but she is four years younger than Clarke and she hasn't even met her professorial brother yet. 

“Clarke?” Octavia’s presence at her side startles the blonde. She hadn't even realized that she’d been so lost in thought.

“Sorry,” she says.

“I asked what you thought of the place,” Octavia’s watching her hesitantly.

“It’s great,” Clarke admits. Octavia’s smile is almost enough to convince Clarke that it’s for her. 

 

“Really? That’s great!” Octavia surprises Clarke with a tight hug before pulling back. “I promised you dinner, right? Do you like Thai?”  
…  
Clarke and Octavia are digging into containers of noodles while discussing Clarke’s residency when Bellamy comes home. If he’s confused by Clarke’s presence, he doesn't show it. Clarke is momentarily stunned by how good looking he is, though she shouldn't be surprised after seeing Octavia. Bellamy’s dark curls and freckled skin make him look younger than Clarke expected him to, and in his tight collared shirt and black jeans, he looks nothing like she remembers her college professors looking. He’s also holding a motorcycle helmet under his left arm. Definitely not like her professors. 

“Bell!” Octavia excitedly greets him. “Come meet Clarke.” Bellamy drops his bag and helmet on the couch and approaches the two, eyeing Clarke as if she were a street cat his sister had brought home. She almost feels scrutinized under his sharp gaze, his face betraying no emotions.  
“Hi,” Clarke waves, immediately regretting the action. She never waves, why would she just wave at him?

“Hi,” Bellamy echoes in a low voice.

“There’s extra curry for you in the fridge,” Octavia says, “I wasn't sure when you were getting back.”

“Just had to finish grading some finals,” Bellamy explains, eyes still on Clarke. She mentally tries to will him to look away.

“Clarke’s moving in,” Octavia says suddenly and both turn to question her.

“Well nothing’s been decided yet,” Clarke quickly stammers. Bellamy looks back at her, a strange expression on his face. 

“We swore over Pad Thai,” Octavia argues, “that’s an unbreakable vow! Is it the rent price?” The younger girl looks wounded and Clarke immediately feels bad.

“No the price is great, actually everything is great I just need a night to think on it.” This seems to satisfy Octavia who flashes Clarke her brilliant smile. Bellamy still looks unsure. 

“Can I talk to you for a sec, O?” He’s pulling his sister up by the arm before she can even respond.

“We’ll be right back,” Octavia looks embarrassed as Bellamy leads her into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Clarke’s cheeks are flushed red and she isn't even sure why. Octavia and Bellamy aren't gone for long and when they emerge Octavia is wearing a sneaky smile as if she were a child who had just gotten her way.

“Sorry about that, now where were we?” Octavia plops back down at the table.

“I should probably be going,” Clarke says, avoiding Bellamy’s hard gaze as she gathers her things, “I have another shift in a few hours.” Octavia looks disappointed; Bellamy, relieved. 

“Well, the room is yours if you want it,” Octavia says as she walks Clarke to the door. 

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” Clarke promises, “it was nice to meet you.” She finally looks toward the man behind Octavia. “Both of you.” Octavia hugs her again before she leaves, whispering an apology for her brother’s behavior. Clarke is glad his standoffishness isn't ignored and nods at them both before escaping into the hall. Once the door is closed, she bangs her head against the wall for a moment, taking a shuddering breath.

This would be a terrible idea, she tells herself.

…  
When she sees Monty at the hospital the next morning she pulls him into a linen closet to confront him.

“What the hell?” She demands, hitting him in the chest. 

“Ow! What the hell with you?”

“Why would you send me over there?”

“What are you talking about?” Monty asks. “Octavia said she loved you and offered you the room!”

“Well her brother obviously doesn't want me moving in,” Clarke huffs. A look of understanding crosses Monty’s face.

“Bellamy just has a hard shell,” he reasons, “he’s like that with everyone he meets. And Miller’s his best friend, he’s just worried about having a new roommate.”

“I don’t know, Monty,” Clarke plops down on a box and rolls her neck.

“Come on,” he kneels down to her eye level and rubs a hand over her shoulder, “you really need to get out of your mother’s house.” Clarke laughs at that and nods. “And we’ll get to be neighbors! Everyone will love you.” Maybe not everyone, Clarke counters in her mind. 

At her next break Clarke pulls out her phone and hesitantly dials the number Monty had scratched on to a sticky note. 

“Octavia? Hi, it’s Clarke Griffin.”  
…  
By Sunday Clarke is fully packed and loading her things into the rental van with Kane’s assistance. Her mother had been less than enthusiastic after learning of Clarke’s decision to move in with two strangers. 

“You can afford your own place, you know, if you don't want to live here,” Abby had reminded her the night before as she packed. 

“I know,” Clarke responded, “but its good for me to be around others for now.” Abby’s discontent melded into silence. As Kane and Clarke carried boxes from the loft, Abby sat stoically in the kitchen sipping her coffee. Clarke wasn't one to cave, though, and didn't need a goodbye. Kane choicely said nothing about their lack of interaction as they pulled away from the brownstone. 

“Thanks for helping with everything,” Clarke says to the man who will probably be her step father one day.

“Of course,” Kane smiles back at her from the driver’s seat. Clarke had told him she didn't need his help actually getting the stuff out and into the new place, but Kane had taken the afternoon off anyway and insisted that it was essentially his duty to move her in. Clarke texts Octavia and Monty when they arrive to enlist their help getting everything upstairs. To her surprise, Bellamy, Jasper, and Miller also come down. Miller smiles at her, and for the first time Clarke notices his boyish attractiveness. Maybe its the uniform that’s always made him seem so serious. Unsurprisingly, Bellamy doesn't even greet Clarke. He just moves to the van to pick up two boxes. Octavia, on the other hand, squeals and launches herself into Clarke’s arms. 

“I’m so excited,” she pants as the two jointly carry Clarke’s clothing rack into the apartment. “I have lived with only men for far too long.”

“Me too,” Clarke laughs before stopping herself. Octavia gives her an understanding look as they put down the rack.

“Monty didn't give details, but he did tell me about your break up. I’m really sorry.” Clarke isn't sure how to respond but prays that she isn't about to start crying in front of her new roommate.

“Oh,” she finally settles on. “It’s fine. Inevitable, I suppose.” Octavia opens her mouth to say something but a crash and a string of profanities rushes them into the main room. Jasper is standing in front of the door, three cardboard boxes at his feet.

“Did you try to carry those stacked?” Octavia asks. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Clarke,” he bends to grab them. Clarke and Octavia each grab a box as well.

“It’s ok, it’s just clothes.”

“For someone who wears scrubs 70 percent of the time, you sure have a lot of clothing,” Octavia comments. 

With all the extra hands everything is moved upstairs in record time. Kane sticks around to help her assemble some things before heading back.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her before he leaves, “I’ll work on your mother.” Clarke hugs him tightly. Since her father’s death when she was sixteen, Kane had always done his best to fill the role without pushing her too hard. 

“Thanks for everything.” 

After Kane’s departure, Clarke treats her unpaid moving crew to pizza. The mood seems lighter as they sit around the coffee table laughing and eating. Even Bellamy smiles briskly at Clarke when she hands him another beer. Maybe this won’t be so bad, she thinks.


	2. The One With Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke adjusts to her new environment. Things heat up and then (sort of) cool down with Bellamy

Clarke jolts awake from her nightmare. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence, though she usually shakes the feeling faster. For a moment she thinks she might still be dreaming. She reaches across the bed for Wells but is met with cold sheets. She sits up and looks around, she isn't in her Manhattan apartment or even her mother’s home. 

“Oh.”

She takes in the brick walls and the light coming through the window. She checks her phone to discover its only six in the morning. Her shift doesn't start until two, but she has a feeling she won’t be able to fall back asleep. Crawling out of bed, Clarke heads out to the main room in nothing but an oversized college t-shirt. The apartment is quiet and she can’t tell if the Blakes are still sleeping or already out. As she turns on the coffee maker she’s answered by the sound of an opening door. Bellamy seems startled by her presence as he nears the kitchen area. Maybe he thought the previous day had been a dream too.

“Morning.” She wills herself to ignore the fact that he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers. Seriously, professors do not look like this. Firefighters, maybe, but definitely not history professors.

“Good morning,” he stammers out and Clarke is almost proud of the blush that grows across his face. “Sorry, I forgot that, um, that you weren’t Octavia. Or Miller.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says without thinking. She can tell Bellamy’s trying not to smile as he moves past her to grab a mug for himself. 

“Cornell?” Bellamy asks.

“Huh?” 

“You went to Cornell?” Clarke looks down at her shirt.

“Oh, yeah, for undergraduate.” Bellamy makes a grunt of disapproval.

“Impressive,” he finally says. Though his tone of voice leads Clarke to believe he is anything but impressed. 

“So what about you?” She asks, determined to continue the conversation. 

“What about me?” Bellamy asks, digging through the fridge. Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“Where did you go to school?” 

“Um, Columbia, actually,” 

“Really?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised, princess,” he says dryly, “even the peasantry have good test scores.” Clarke isn’t sure how to respond to his sudden rise in hostility.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to imply anything I was just-”

“Look, you don't have to do this,” Bellamy says, finally meeting her eyes in a long glare.

“Excuse me?”

“Smalltalk, or whatever the hell this.” 

“For the record, you started this conversation. And I’m just trying to get to know the people I’m living with,” Clarke matches his glare. Bellamy remains silent and Clarke doesn't have the energy to continue their one sided conversation. With an audible sigh she takes her coffee back to her bedroom. She spends a while unpacking the rest of her clothes and rearranging things until she hears the door slam. It’s just after eight, so she assumes its Bellamy off to work. She peeks her head out of her room, scanning the now empty apartment. This was such a bad idea. 

…

The next few days are no better. With the semester over, Bellamy is in the apartment more often than not. Even though Clarke isn't around much because of her schedule, every time Bellamy sees her between shifts he barely nods at her. On the first occasion Clarke is home between the hours and five and nine since moving in, Octavia insists the three have dinner together. Apparently Bellamy offers to cook, though Clarke doesn't witness this act of chivalry. She gets home from her shift at six to find Bellamy already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables at the counter. He shoots her a quick look, turning back to his task before she can speak.

“Hey,” she greets him anyway.

“Hi.” Clarke can literally hear crickets follow his voice.

“Where’s Octavia?” She chances moving closer to him and his sharp blade.

“She went out to grab some wine, apparently this is a special occasion,” he makes air quotes for the last two words.

“Need any help?” She asks, pretending not to be fazed by his obvious annoyance at their forced dinner. He doesn't look back up at her as he responds. 

“I’m just getting things for the salad, everything else is already done.” 

“Cool, well I guess I’ll go change then.” Bellamy huffs in acknowledgment. Clarke pulls off her scrubs and collapses on her bed in nothing but her bra and underwear. She’s exhausted from her shift and the idea of sitting through an entire dinner with Bellamy is making her head hurt. Maybe she can get out of it somehow, pretend to be sick or fake an emergency at work. Then she thinks about how excited Octavia seemed earlier and decides to suck it up. She changes into a casual sundress, figuring Octavia would be disappointed if she came to their first “family dinner” in sweats. 

When she emerges from her room Octavia is back and setting the table.

“Hey hey, roomie!” She exclaims. 

“Hey, Octavia,” Clarke can’t help but smile and feel a rush of affection for the younger girl. She then notices that Lincoln is also here, standing beside Bellamy and opening a bottle of red wine.

“Nice to see you again,” he says in a smooth voice and Clarke is suddenly very grateful for his presence. 

“Hi, Lincoln.”

“When did you two meet?” Bellamy asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

“When she came to check out the place,” Octavia answers quickly. “Lincoln had just dropped by so their paths crossed.” Bellamy raises a skeptical eye, clearly unconvinced.

“Is the food ready, Bell?” Octavia asks. “We’re starving.”

Clarke hates to admit it, but Bellamy is a halfway decent cook. More than halfway, actually. For a moment, as she savors the rosemary chicken, she forgets how shitty he’s been to her since she moved in. 

“This is great,” she tells him earnestly. He repays her compliment with a look of disdain. It’s enough to bring her back to reality, chicken or no chicken. Luckily, the others are far more amiable. 

“So Clarke, you grew up in D.C.?” Lincoln asks.

“Yeah, up until college and then we, um, I went back to Baltimore for med school.”

“But you decided to do your residency here?” Lincoln asks. 

“It was time for me to get out of the D.C.-Baltimore area,” Clarke shrugs, “make some new memories.”

“Because D.C. and Baltimore are such terrible cities,” Bellamy deadpans and Clarke swears she sees the flicker of an eye roll.

“No,” she throws back, “because it was time for me to go.”

“But your mom’s in New York now too?” Octavia asks, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from her brother. 

“She transferred here when I graduated high school.”

“She needed to get out of D.C. too?” Lincoln asks, a knowing look in his eyes. Clarke is surprised by the question and the earnestness in his voice.

“Something like that,” Clarke nods before taking a long sip of wine. Bellamy lets out a snort.

“Oh please,” he sighs. 

“Excuse me?” Clarke looks back at him. 

“I just can’t imagine what you would need to run away from,” he shrugs. 

“Bellamy,” Octavia warns.

“I didn’t say I-”

“Don’t,” Octavia shakes her head, “Bell’s just being an asshole.” Bellamy visibly rolls his eyes this time. Clarke isn’t sure what to say to him, but she knows she can’t do it in front of Octavia and Lincoln. Instead, she refocuses on her wine. Lincoln has begun talking about the fitness class he’s teaching in Central Park for the summer. 

Clarke chances a glance across the table at Bellamy. To his credit, he at least looks as uncomfortable as she feels. Their eyes meet for a second and its enough to send an involuntary shiver through Clarke’s body. 

After dinner, Lincoln and Octavia leave to meet some of his friends at a bar. They invite Clarke and as much as she’d love to get out of the apartment, she has to be up in a few hours for work. After their departure, Bellamy disappears into his room. Clarke considers following suit, but decides that if she doesn’t assert herself as a fully fledged member of this apartment now, she may never. 

Plopping down on the couch, Clarke scrolls through Netflix until she settles on the X Files. Fifteen minutes in, Bellamy emerges in low hung joggers and a tighter t shirt than he has any business wearing. Stop it, Clarke reprimands herself, don’t get distracted by his looks and culinary abilities. She half expects him to make some comment about her choice of show, but instead he remains silent as he grabs a drink from the fridge.

Clarke keeps her eyes fixed on Mulder. She isn’t usually one to ignore problems or problematic people, but Bellamy has pushed her over the edge and she’s only known him for five days. She’s painfully aware when he steps closer to the couch, briefly watching the screen before turning his gaze on her. She doesn’t meet his eyes. 

If Bellamy wanted to say something, he doesn’t. Once he retreats back to his room, Clarke dramatically buries her head in one of the couch cushions. She wasn’t sure she could go on like this. She had been fine with the idea that Bellamy was just quiet, but she hadn’t expected him to be the type of person to go out of his way to be cold and rude. 

How is it possible that he and Octavia were related?? How was it possible that everyone else seemed to think he had “great qualities once you get to know him.” He obviously wasn’t going to give her that chance, so maybe she should just leave before it gets any dicier. 

… 

While Bellamy remains his icy self for the first few weeks of Clarke’s presence, her and Octavia only grow closer. She almost makes up for her brother. 

A few days after her arrival, Octavia introduces Clarke to the coffee shop at the base of the building, Drop Ship. Octavia refers to it as their unofficial third apartment. There’s seemingly only one barista and although the place is packed, the couch and chairs in the center of the cafe are vacant. 

“That’s our spot,” Octavia explains, “everyone knows so they keep it open for us.” 

“How uncharacteristically kind for New Yorkers,” Clarke remarks. 

“Don’t let Murphy scare you,” Octavia whispers as they approach the counter, “he acts tough but he’s a big softie on the inside.” Clarke seriously doubts that after the unfriendly barista takes her order for a latte with a snarl. Octavia seems unfazed as she greets him with a, “Hey, sunshine! I’ll have the usual.”

“I really hate that I know what that is,” he says with an eye roll.

“You would be lost without us,” she blows him a kiss as she pulls Clarke to the couch. When Murphy brings their drinks over instead of just calling them out from the counter, however, Clarke notes a hint of fondness on his face. 

“See?” The younger girl says over her macchiato. “Total softie.” Monty and Miller join them a few minutes after their arrival and Clarke wonders if Octavia told them they were here or if the couple arrived by chance.

“I see you’ve settled in,” Monty smiles at Clarke, “what do you think of the place?”

“The apartment or this?” She asks.

“I meant the apartment, but yeah, I guess here too,” he laughs.

“It’s good,” she says, glancing at Octavia. Miller gives her a knowing smile.

“Is Bellamy still being a pain?”

“Honestly I’ve only spoken to him like three times since moving in.”

“He’s never been particularly good with change,” Octavia says apologetically. 

“You’re brother can also just be an asshole,” Miller says, “speaking as his best friend.” 

“No kidding,” Clarke murmurs. In the week since she’s moved into the apartment her observations of Bellamy are as follows: He’s ridiculously attractive, he’s a good cook, and above all, he’s insufferable. Clarke doesn't get it, he’s nothing like any of his friends. But then she’ll sees the way Bellamy ruffles Octavia’s hair or the way he and Miller interact while playing video games and he’s someone else. He isn't the same person who ignores her over breakfast or picks fights at the dinner table.  
…  
Clarke’s showering one evening, half asleep after a twelve hour shift. The hot water is a godsend for her aching bones and she contemplates never getting out. She’s so lost in a haze of daydreams and weariness that it doesn't register at first that someone is calling her name. Then there’s a banging at the door and Octavia’s voice is unmistakable.

“Clarke!” She sounds panicked. Clarke quickly shuts off the tap and sticks her head out of the curtain. 

“Octavia?”

“Can you come out here?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Bellamy’s an idiot,” Octavia growls through the door. Clarke doesn't ask for more information before she wraps a towel around herself and steps out of the bathroom. Octavia is standing next to the kitchen table, arms folded in annoyance. Bellamy is bent over the counter, Clarke can’t see his face but notes the way his shoulders are pinched in tension.

“Bellamy?” Clarke asks softly as she approaches. He turns sharply at her voice and Clarke can now see he’s holding his left hand in his right, a bloody towel wrapped around it. “Jesus, Bell, what happened?” No one has time to register the fact that she’s never used that nickname before.

“It’s just a nick,” Bellamy hisses, “Octavia overreacted.”

“You basically severed off your finger,” his sister shouts. 

“Let me take a look,” Clarke offers, holding her hands out to Bellamy. He looks at them for a moment, then to her face before conceding. Clarke gingerly unwraps the towel from his left hand. There’s a lot of blood, but Clarke can tell that there’s a long cut from the middle of his pointer finger down to the connection between his thumb.

“Yikes.” 

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Octavia asks.

“You’ll definitely need stitches,” Clarke rewraps the towel, pressing down to help the blood flow stop. 

“Is that really necessary?” Bellamy asks, for a moment sounding like an indolent teenager.

“If you want it to heal without a scar or infection.” Bellamy moves his hand out of Clarke’s hold, pulling it against his chest.

“I have a suture kit,” Clarke tells him, “if you’d rather do it here.”

“You can do that?” Octavia asks skeptically.

“If you trust me,” Clarke holds Bellamy’s gaze, trying to decipher what he’s thinking underneath. 

After a long moment, Bellamy sighs. “I trust you.” Clarke reaches for his hand again. 

“Come on then.” She pulls him towards her bathroom.

“Shouldn’t you, uh, put something on first,” Octavia coughs. Clarke looks down, suddenly aware that she’s still only in a short towel, droplets of water falling from her wet hair.

“Don’t move,” Clarke commands, sitting Bellamy down on the side of the tub before she heads back to her room to grab a robe and her kit. When she returns, Bellamy is unwrapping the towel, scowling at the bloodied cloth.

“Hey,” Clarke kneels, quickly reaching for him, “be careful.”

“I think the bleeding’s stopped,” he says. 

“Well it’d be better if you didn't pull off any skin,” she chides, earning a snort from Bellamy. She raises a professional eye.“What?” 

“Nothing,” Bellamy shakes his head, “you sound like a doctor.”

“That’s the plan.” They fall into silence as Clarke sterilizes his hand and then begins stitching up the cut. Bellamy winces every few seconds.

“Jesus,” he hisses, trying to pull his hand back.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Anyone ever tell you you have terrible bedside manner?”

“So what were you cooking anyway?” Clarke asks, trying to distract him.

“I was-shit-making a lasagna.”

“Mhmm, and which ingredient caused this?”

“The carrots.”

“Ha! I told you they were unnecessary.”

“It’s a vegetable lasagna, without carrots there’s basically no substance.”

“Nothing wrong with just cheese, sauce, and pasta.” Clarke catches a slight smile on Bellamy’s face.

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

“As if we’re letting you cook anytime soon,” Clarke laughs. She’s surprised by how easy this conversation is. Maybe its the blood loss, but for the moment Bellamy doesn’t seem like the arrogant asshole she’s known for the past three weeks. There’s something almost…charming(?) about him. 

“That should about do it.” Clarke ties off the stitching, admiring her handiwork with a professional eye. If she holds Bellamy’s hand for longer than medically necessary, so be it. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Clarke is startled by Bellamy’s almost playful tone of voice, he’s never used it with her before. It takes her a moment to clear her thoughts and her throat.

“Uh, you’ll live.” Clarke lets go of his hand and stands quickly. She cleans and repacks her kit, her back turned to Bellamy so that she doesn’t notice when he stands up and moves closer to her.

“Thank you,” she feels his breath on her neck as he speaks from behind her. She represses a chill, taking a long breath to steady herself.

“What are roommates for?” She jokes, turning to face him. He’s smiling at her, that boyish grin he usually saves for Octavia. He looks as if he’s about to say something else but Octavia interrupts them when she calls though the door: “are you guys done in there? I’m starving!”

“Then make something,” Bellamy yells back. Whatever moment he and Clarke were having is over and they both clumsily reach for the door, grabbing each other’s hands in the process.

“Sorry,” Clarke stammers, pulling back and exiting the bathroom. 

If Octavia notices how awkward Clarke is being throughout their semi-salvaged dinner, she doesn’t remark on it but eyes the two of them suspiciously throughout the meal. Clarke slowly gets over whatever emotions she was experiencing in the bathroom and is normal enough to chastise Bellamy for attempting to wash dishes with his newly bandaged hand.

“Thank God we have a washer,” Octavia scoffs as she drops the bloodied towel in the sink, “otherwise Mr. Morris would think we’d committed a murder.”

“Mr. Morris?” Clarke asks.

“He ran the laundromat we used to go to,” Bellamy explains, “quintessential crotchety old man.”

“Is that where you got your inspiration?” They’re all surprised by Clarke’s joke and even more surprised at Bellamy’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for comments and kudos! I really appreciate the support and hope you continue to enjoy!


	3. The One With Fortunes and Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one month in. Bellamy's shell continues to break and Clarke is very confused.

Something changes between Bellamy and Clarke after that night in the bathroom. Clarke can’t quite figure it out at first, but it definitely isn’t a bad thing. Perhaps it’s just a side effect of spending a month in close quarters with someone, but their encounters are becoming less awkward. Bellamy no longer avoids eye contact over the coffee machine or strictly speaks to Octavia when they’re all together. He seems to be able to tolerate Clarke now, perhaps deeming her worthy for saving him from possible gangrene.

Clarke is relieved to no longer feel like a stranger in her own home (though she had quite literally been a stranger). The more she gets to know the Blakes and their friends across the hall, the more she likes them. She shouldn’t be surprised, of course, she had instantly been drawn to Monty when they met at the hospital. 

Clarke has never had a particularly large friend group before and is still learning the intricacies of a “squad.” She stops being surprised at everyone’s unannounced arrivals after her first week in the apartment, almost expecting one of the guys to be on their couch when she returns from a shift.

She even enjoys their group message (a group message!). When her phone dings ten times in succession during a shift, she’s only momentarily annoyed before she reads the messages and finds herself smiling or even laughing. It’s usually Jasper recounting something wild that happened at the microbrewery he works at, Grounders, or Octavia making elaborate plans. 

Whereas groups used to make her feel awkward and left out, Clarke feels completely at ease when the six of them (sometimes seven if Jasper brings along his current date) hang out at Drop Ship or Grounders. It’s nice to be so surrounded, Clarke realizes. She’s used to solo dates with Wells or going out with colleagues of his. They were mostly formal affairs at wine lofts or galas. Drinking cheap beer and losing at darts, Clarke finally feels how she imagines she should at twenty-five (and how she should have at twenty-one).

A few nights after the lasagna incident (as it comes to be known when Octavia recounts it for the rest of the group), everyone is over to the apartment for Chinese takeout and the Bachelor. Bellamy and Miller still won’t admit they enjoy it, but neither put up any serious resistance. Bellamy, however, takes it upon himself to complain throughout about the plot holes. 

“It’s a reality show, Bellamy,” Octavia growls, “not historical fiction. It doesn’t matter if you find it unbelievable.”

“There’s obviously something wrong with a guy who sees this as a way to find his soulmate.”

“Obviously your tactics aren’t working either,” Monty points out. Octavia suddenly jumps up in excitement, nearly knocking the plate out of Clarke’s hands. 

“Oh my God!” She screams. "Is anyone else thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“Pretty sure we’re never thinking the same thing,” Miller says.

“Bellamy could totally be the next bachelor!” Clarke chokes on her beer. The rest burst into laughter. 

“Can you imagine?” Jasper howls. “The girls would probably all leave before he could choose anyone.” Clarke checks Bellamy’s reaction to all this and is surprised to find him smiling.

“I can be pretty damn charming at times,” he huffs. This time Clarke is the one laughing. 

“Something to say, princess?” He asks, his tone light. Clarke shakes her head, trying to suppress her giggles.

“Not at all,” she smiles. Bellamy gives her a look that makes something warm creep into her belly. She quickly reminds herself that although things are improving between them, he can still be an asshole. 

After a disappointing rose ceremony, the guys leave to nurse their coming MSG hangovers. Octavia heads out to Lincolns’, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone on the sofa. There’s a singular fortune cookie on the table that Clarke has been eyeing since they realized they were given an extra. 

“If you want it,” Bellamy’s voice startles her, “just take it.”

“I’m not a dick,” Clarke counters, “everyone knows only heartless people take the last of anything.”

“You took the last roll at dinner a few nights ago” Bellamy says. Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“Besides,” Bellamy’s voice comes out softer now as he reaches for the package, “you’re the only person I know who actually enjoys these things.”

“Everyone loves fortune cookies,” Clarke argues.

“Everyone loves opening them and reading their fake fortunes,” Bellamy counters, “but you actually like the taste of them.”

“Says the guy who eats marmite,” Clarke huffs. She chances a look over at Bellamy and he’s watching her with an unreadable expression that slowly curls into a smile. It’s more genuinely than he has ever looked at her before and Clarke momentarily forgets how to breathe.

“Compromise,” Bellamy holds up the cookie, “I get the fortune, you get to eat it.”

“You eat it to ensure the fortune comes true.”

“That isn't a thing.”

“It most definitely is!” Clarke reaches for the cookie, but Bellamy is already cracking it open. He scans the tiny paper for a long moment, as if reading a legal document. 

“What does it say?” Clarke asks after he puts it down with a hum.

“Something stupid. As always,” Bellamy drops the broken cookie into her hands.

“Tell me,” Clarke pleads. “The cookie is meaningless without it.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Well that isn't a very good fortune,” Clarke retorts, reaching for the paper. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy growls as she loses her balance and lands on his chest. The paper falls from his hands and she struggles to grab it from the floor before he can.

“Hah,” she holds the paper up with a victorious laugh. She can tell Bellamy’s trying to hide a smile.

“You’re a child,” he says with something akin to fondness in his voice. It registers then that Clarke is still straddling Bellamy. Somehow, it doesn't feel awkward or wrong for the moment. They stare at each other for a long moment, Bellamy’s dark eyes causing heat to pool in her stomach. Clarke quickly looks back to the paper to calm herself. 

“Beauty is beside you,” Clarke reads in a theatrical voice, “don't let it pass.” Bellamy is silent. Clarke scrunches her nose. Why had he been too embarrassed to read it? She looks back at him and recognizes the anxiety in his face. 

“They spelled beauty wrong,” she comments. This releases the tension and Bellamy lets out a chuckle. Clarke pulls herself up so that she’s no longer on top of Bellamy and he can sit back up.

“I guess its better than Jasper’s,” Bellamy says and Clarke cringes at the memory of Jasper reading “When you find happiness, don’t expect it to stay for long.”

“That was pretty brutal,” she agrees. They’re silent for a long moment, Clarke trying to ignore the fact that Bellamy is staring at her. She looks down at her watch and thankfully realizes it’s later than she thought. 

“Yikes,” she stands up with a sigh, “I have to be up in four hours so I’m gonna hit the hay.”  
Bellamy stands too and Clarke thinks he’s going to his room, but instead follows her to her door. Is he walking me home, she wonders. They both stand in front of the closed door for a moment, Bellamy seemingly about to say something. Clarke waits patiently, increasingly confused by his actions over the past hour. 

“Bellamy,” she decides to be the one to break their awkward silence, to ask him to please just be her friend so they can live normally. He doesn’t give her the chance, however.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry for how I acted when you first moved in,” Bellamy clarifies. Clarke isn’t expecting this. Her mouth forms a silent, “oh” as he continues.

“I misjudged you and I didn’t give you a fair chance. But…” his dark eyes scan her face as if he’s looking for something in her to prompt the rest of his statement. Clarke raises an eyebrow in anticipation, this seems to be enough because Bellamy gives her a relieved smile. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Clarke says, biting back a snarky comment on how much of an ass he was. Bellamy scratches the back of his neck and moves away so that Clarke can open her door.

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Clarke,” he whispers before she closes the door. Clarke rests her forehead against the wood, taking a few steadying breaths. Maybe, she thinks, it’s possible to break Bellamy’s shell after all.

…

The next noticeable cracks in Bellamy’s once rough exterior come in the form of soup. Clarke has been nursing a cold for about a week when it finally reaches its apex. It’s six o’clock at night and she’s been back from a shift for four hours but has another one at nine.

“Should you really be going to work in a hospital when you’re sick?” Octavia asks, pressing a hand to Clarke’s forehead even though they both know she has no ability to judge what her temperature is.

“I don’t know,” Clarke’s lost most of her resolve at this point as she sits curled on the couch, coughing into a tissue.

“Come on,” Octavia argues, “You’re no good to anyone like this.”

“Probably not,” Clarke agrees because she really is too tired and achy to imagine herself returning to the hospital. She falls into a short fit of coughing before she takes out her phone to text the on call resident.

“Do you need me to stay?” Octavia bites her lip nervously and Clarke wonders if she’s ever encountered a sick person before. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the Blakes have superior immune systems to go along with their physical features.

“I’m not five,” Clarke snaps, though it comes out quiet and weak, “and I’m a doctor. I think I can survive the night.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Bellamy suddenly says from his spot at the table. He had been quiet throughout their conversation, Clarke had almost forgotten he was home.

“Nobody needs to keep an eye on me,” Clarke argues. Hoping her voice sounds more menacing than she knows it does. Both Blakes ignore her as Octavia gathers her things to spend the night with Lincoln and Bellamy continues grading papers on his laptop. 

After Octavia leaves, Clarke considers moving back to her room for the rest of the evening. She really doesn’t have the energy to stand up, though. She looks over to Bellamy, surprised to find him looking back at her, an amused expression on his face.

“What?” She asks. He smirks in return, standing and going to the fridge.

“You look like shit,” he says from behind the door. Clarke scowls, though he doesn’t see it.

“Has anyone ever told you what an ass you are?” He doesn’t respond and Clarke leans back into the cushions, too exhausted to keep it up. She looks up as Bellamy places a glass of orange juice on the coffee table. She gives him a quizzical look. He doesn’t say anything and returns to his work. 

Clarke stares at the glass for a minute, before reaching for it. As a doctor, she knows its purely psychosomatic to drink a singular glass of OJ and feel the Vitamin C immediately working. However, she is also susceptible to dreams and internally admits that the drink was a good idea. She won’t thank Bellamy, however, at least not in so many words.

“What are you working on?” She asks instead, knowing that he will take this conversation as a sign of gratitude.

“The first essays for my summer class on Roman civ,” he responds, meeting her gaze across the apartment. She’s still getting used to his constant eye contact now that they’re out of the refusing-to-look-at-the-other-one phase.

“An intensive course on ancient civilizations,” Clarke muses, “sounds like the best summer ever.” Bellamy rolls his eyes, but his smirk gives away his amusement.

“So how’d you get so sick, Dr. Griffin?” 

“I wouldn’t label this as ‘so sick,’” Clarke points out, “and I work in a hospital it isn’t that surprising.” Bellamy is about to say something when Clarke falls into a brief coughing fit. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks, looking suddenly awkward and unsure. 

“The immune system of Superman?”

“How about soup?” He offers. 

“You’re going to make me soup?” Clarke asks skeptically. She has witnessed Bellamy’s skill in the kitchen on a plethora of dishes, but never has she seen him attempt to make anything brothy. Then again, it is Summer…

“No,” he replies with a chuckle.

“Then why did you-”

“I’m going to get you soup,” Bellamy clarifies. Clarke is even more surprised by this. Casual roommate friends(?) don’t pick up soup for each other. 

“What kind of soup?” Clarke asks, Bellamy bites his lip before answering. “Matzo ball.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t Passover,” she points out, “and are you even Jewish?”

“It doesn’t need to be and I’m not anything.”

“Hmmm,” Clarke hums.

“Look, do you want the soup or not?” 

“Well I’m very curious to find out where you would retrieve this soup from,” Clarke says. 

Without saying anything, Bellamy closes his laptop and disappears into his room. He returns a minute later with his jacket on. 

“Won’t take long,” he says before exiting the apartment. He’s too quick and Clarke is too confused to say anything before he leaves. 

Clarke briefly falls asleep watching a British baking competition and when she wakes up its to a delicious aroma she’s surprised she can even smell through her stuffy nose. Clarke looks towards the kitchen to find Bellamy standing at the table ladling the contents of a container into two bowls.

“Oh good,” he says upon seeing her watching him, “I was afraid you’d sleep till morning and my efforts would be for naught.” 

Clarke begins to pull herself up from the couch to assist him, but Bellamy ushers her back down with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he carries a bowl over to her. As he places it on the coffee table, Clarke stomach alerts her to how hungry she really is. 

“Perfect timing, I guess.” She had noticed Bellamy pour himself a bowl, but expects him to stay at the table or move to his room to avoid possible infection or her general grossness. However, Bellamy returns to the couch with his own bowl and sits down beside Clarke. 

He says nothing about it, just takes the remote from her to change the show. He settles on the X Files and begins eating. Clarke looks at him for a moment before finally picking up her bowl. She inhales it, hoping the steam will help relieve some of her congestion, and takes a few sips.

“Oh wow,” she says. 

“And you doubted me,” Bellamy hums triumphantly.

“This is perfect,” Clarke agrees as she tries to cut one of the matzo balls in half with her spoon. The two fall into companionable silence as they eat and watch tv. When they finish, Bellamy clears the bowls before returning to the couch. Clarke says nothing as another episode begins to play. She’s full and warm from the soup and still a bit loopy from her fever, which is how Clarke justifies her next move.

Bellamy is sitting close enough for their upper arms to graze. Clarke’s technically too far from the side of the couch to rest her head on it without an overly awkward movement, so she settles instead for tilting it to the left to meet Bellamy’s shoulder. 

She feels him stiffen in surprise. She immediately regrets the move and considers sitting back up when Bellamy moves his arm to wrap around her shoulders. Clarke internally screams at herself not to do anything weird. Bellamy is probably freaked out enough by her (not to mention she literally looks terrible). 

Clarke tries to make herself relax, but every nerve in her body is suddenly on high alert because of the man next to her. The man who’s…playing with her hair?? 

Clarke is only partially weirded out by the fact that she’s resting on Bellamy Blake’s shoulder while he runs his fingers through her hair. The oddness of it all is outmeasured by the comfort Clarke hasn’t felt in weeks. Just a few moments like this, she reasons, and then she’ll shift and they never have to talk about it. 

Clarke gives in to her comfort, finally able to refocus on the television as she rests further on Bellamy’s shoulder. She barely feels herself nodding off, the light pressure of Bellamy’s fingers in her hair lulling her to sleep. 

…

When Clarke wakes up again its dark and she’s in her bed. For a second, she wonders if it was all a dream. Then she notices she still has the blanket from the couch wrapped around her and an image of Bellamy picking her up off the couch and tucking her in causes a blush to rise up her neck. 

What the hell is going on, Clarke wonders. How could Bellamy go from the crotchety douche who ridiculed her life choices to the guy who bought her soup and carried her to bed? What’s next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all (as per usual) for the kind remarks and kudos. I hope you'll continue liking the story, some bigger plot points about to come!


	4. The One With Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fourth of July obviously calls for a beach trip with lots and lots of sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters! I hope this (semi) longer one makes up for it.

Before Clarke realizes it, it’s July. She’s been living with the Blakes for almost two months and Summer is entering its final stages. She had been warned by Monty the previous week that the Fourth of July was quite an ordeal for the friend group, usually involving illegal fireworks and copious noise complaints. 

Clarke had turned down her mother’s invitation to join them in D.C. for the holiday weekend, as had been their tradition since they left their home city. It wouldn’t feel right, Clarke knows, Washington wouldn’t feel right. It hadn’t since her father’s death and it definitely wouldn’t without Wells. Though he’d probably be there anyway, Clarke realizes, and her mother would definitely want to go to his father’s party. 

So Clarke decides to stay in New York and partake in whatever it is that her roommates and neighbors do for the holidays. Octavia informs her about Fire Island less than a week before the fourth. Apparently Miller’s family owns a place there and they’ve been borrowing it for the last two summers. Since everyone else has already known of this plan for the past year, Octavia seems confused when Clarke tells her she isn’t sure if she can get the time off for a long weekend. 

This isn’t entirely true, of course. Clarke already has the weekend free because months prior she had indeed planned to be in D.C.. The reason for her initial fib is that Clarke is weirdly nervous about spending three days in a tiny house with the whole group. It’s irrational, she realizes, hell, she lives with half of them! How could that be any different.

If she’s being honest, most of her reservations are because of Bellamy.

They had been getting along almost too well since the whole officially becoming friends thing. Octavia even remarked on the change one night when the three of them were having dinner and Clarke and Bellamy spoke more to each other than to her. 

The other shoe was bound to drop, Clarke realized, just not in the way Clarke thought it would.

It began in mid-June when Clarke stumbled into the kitchen for her morning coffee to find a young women sitting at their table wearing nothing but one of Bellamy’s dress shirts. The shirt that he had worn the day before, Clarke noted. 

Clarke wasn’t surprised by Bellamy’s lady friend, per se, but more her own reaction to her. Bellamy hadn’t even been that awkward about it when he found the two of them staring at each other. Hell, he offered to make them both breakfast before Clarke spat out whatever excuse came to her and hid back in her room. 

She casually brought up the girl to Octavia who shrugged and said: “Could have been Cassie or Harper. Or Monica…I don’t really keep up with them all.” Them all?? 

Clarke resolved to tamper down whatever weird jealousy she felt for the man she’s only known for six weeks. Why would she even want anything more than their tentative friendship? It would completely ruin her living arrangement. 

Sucking up her own weirdness, Clarke eventually agrees to the trip. Everyone seems excited at the extra body. There are no discussions of sleeping arrangements or transportation, but Clarke is finally getting used to not being the planner in some situations. 

The day before they’re set to leave for the island, Clarke and Monty have work and miss most of the preparation. When Clarke arrives home, grocery bags and cases of beer littler the living area. There are also bags full of what appear to be decorations. 

“So are we throwing a party?” Clarke asks, dropping her bag in Bellamy’s armchair. Octavia is on her laptop at the table with Bellamy and Lincoln behind her. 

“Just you wait, Griffin,” Octavia beams. “This is going to be the greatest Fourth of July of your life!” Clarke looks to Bellamy and they share a smile at Octavia’s excitement. 

“Are you packed?” Octavia asks, closing her laptop and motioning the boys away. 

“Not quite,” Clarke admits, “I can’t decide what to bring.”

“Literally all you need is a swimsuit and something red, white, and blue.”

“Shit,” Clarke curses. She knew there was something she had meant to do earlier.

“What?” Octavia asks.

“I don’t have a bathing suit.” Octavia gives her a horrified look. 

“How is that possible?” 

“I haven’t been to the beach in a long time,” Clarke shrugs. 

“This is unacceptable, we’re going shopping.” Octavia’s already heading towards the door before Clarke can protest by pointing out that its already eight o’clock at night. 

They catch the subway to the Atlantic Terminal Mall where Octavia leads Clarke straight to Target. As the younger woman flips through colorful bikinis, Clarke takes in her surroundings. The Clarke of three months ago would never have thought to buy a bathing suit from here. Then again, the Clarke of three months ago feels very different than this Clarke. 

“I know I know,” Octavia says suddenly, “some of these are stupidly overpriced.” Clarke realizes she’s been toying with a price tag. Clarke looks at the tag in confusion. Then she feels a tinge of guilt at the realization of how different of backgrounds her and Octavia come from.

“What do you think about this one?” Octavia asks, holding up a navy blue bikini Clarke balks at the bottoms and shakes her head.

“I haven’t worn a bikini since college,” Clarke laughs. What she doesn’t add is that even back then they made her feel self conscious and uncomfortable. While by no means ever heavy, Clarke had always been curvier than most of her friends and couldn’t help but compare their usual stick thin figures with her own. 

“And yet you have a rockin’ bod,” Octavia hums. “We just need something that will accentuate your boobs without drawing too much attention to them,” she says matter of factly. “You are a doctor, after all.”

She chooses a few more before pushing Clarke into a dressing room. 

Under the harsh lights of the dressing room, Clarke feels thirteen again. Thankfully, she looks nothing like she did as a chubby and acne riddled tween, but the anxiety inducing memories still feel fresh. 

Clarke tries on the first two suits and cringes at her reflection.

“How’s it going?” Octavia calls from outside the door. Clarke grimaces at herself.

“Just a sec.”

“I want to see them!” Octavia whines, but Clarke is already removing the top. 

She pulls on the singular one piece Octavia had selected, already steeling herself for disappointment. To Clarke’s surprise, however, she isn’t horrified of the look. It is a black and white checkered design with a cut out in the back and one in the front between her belly button and ribcage. It accentuates Clarke’s waist and hoists up her breasts in a flattering way. 

Clarke’s confidence is validated by Octavia’s loud whistle when she emerges from the dressing room.

“Holy fucking shit,” Octavia exclaims and Clarke hopes there are no young children around.

“Is it ok?” Clarke asks, doing a twirl.

“Waaaaaay more than ok,” Octavia beams. “Bellamy is going to freak.” Clarke stills at her comment.

“Why would Bellamy freak?” Clarke asks. Octavia gives her a sheepish expression.

“I meant all the guys will freak,” she says quickly. “They’re still unused to females who aren’t me.” Clarke tries to banish the millions of thoughts running through her mind. 

…

At an ungodly hour on Friday morning they pile into the subway with all of their various backpacks, duffels, grocery bags, and coolers. There had been discussion of renting a van, but the cost of rental plus ferry passage encouraged the group to brave public transport. Clarke considers offering to pay for the car, but then imagines what Bellamy’s snarky reaction would be and choicely stays quiet.

When they board the ferry, the sky is finally the color of morning and it promises to be a beautiful day. Clarke leaves her stuff with Octavia and wanders onto the deck. The feeling of wind and light sprays of water remind Clarke of her childhood trips to Cape Cod when her father would take her sailing. 

In some other dimension or plane, Clarke likes to imagine her six year old self still exists. Still ‘helps’ her father hoist the sails and skims her tiny fingers along the cool water’s edge. 

Bellamy’s voice tears her from her musings and Clarke blinks at him until he repeats himself. 

“I said it’s peaceful out here.” Clarke nods, wondering how long he’s been beside her. 

“Not for long,” she hums, already dreading the crowds of people they’re sure to find on the island. If the ferry’s crowdedness is any indication, they were probably here at one of the busiest parts of Summer. Which isn’t at all a surprise. 

“You’ll like it,” Bellamy assures her. “Besides, you could definitely use a break.” Clarke raises a brow.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Clarke counters, though she knows Bellamy, for once, isn’t trying to be facetious. 

“I don’t know,” Bellamy scratches the back of his neck and looks out into the water as he speaks. “You just work such weird hours and always seem so tired when you come home.” Clarke decides to let him off the hook.

“The joys of residency,” she laughs and then more earnestly: “a few days away from the city will be nice.” Bellamy looks relieved and they watch the waves in silence for a few minutes until Monty comes out to let them know they’re about to arrive.

…

They finally arrive at the quaint beach house and Clarke realizes that sleeping arrangements have already been decided upon. Miller and Monty will get the master bedroom as it is Miller’s family home after all. There is some debate (mostly from Bellamy) about Octavia and Lincoln sharing the other room with a full sized bed. He suggests that her and Clarke take it and Lincoln can sleep in the kid’s room with Jasper and him. 

Octavia rolls her eyes, ignoring her brother as she moves her bags into the room.

“Wait,” Clarke puts it all together, “does that mean I’m in the room with Bellamy and Jasper?” Octavia and Miller seem unfazed by this as they nod.

“There’s a bunkbed and twin in there,” Miller explains, “or you could sleep on the couch in the living room. It isn’t a pull out but it’s pretty comfortable.” Clarke looks to Bellamy to figure out his thoughts on the matter. He looks equally as uncomfortable but Jasper is smiling and beckoning the two on.

“Come on, roomies,” he laughs. Clarke follows him to the last bedroom in the narrow hallway. It does indeed contain one Ikea bunkbed. Clarke’s earlier nostalgia returns at the sight of the blue checkered bedsheets and the bright red dresser.

“I call top,” Jasper says gleefully, already swinging his bag onto the bunk.

“Is that thing even long enough for you?” Bellamy asks. Clarke sits down on the single bed as Bellamy has already appeared to take the bottom bunk. She’s surprised at this act of silent chivalry. 

They don’t even have time to unpack before Octavia is yelling through the house that its time to hit the beach..

“Can’t we eat first?” Jasper asks. “I’m starving.”

“PB&J material is in the kitchen,” she says. After they have their fill of white bread sandwiches and grapes, Clarke returns to her room to change into her swimsuit. As she digs it out of her bag, Jasper enters. Clarke hadn’t even thought about the technical annoyances of sharing a room with two guys for the weekend.

“Can I have a minute, Jas?” She asks, holding up the suit so he’d get the hint.

“Oh, yeah, sure sure,” he ducks out and Clarke locks the door. She’s shimmying back into her denim shorts when Bellamy begins knocking incessantly.

“We all have to change, Clarke,” he says. She rolls her eyes, shrugs on a flowy top and opens the door.

“Well now you two can change together,” she says before leaving.

… 

The beach is crowded when they arrive, but the group manages to find a free patch of sand to set up camp. Jasper and Monty masterfully set up the umbrella they had found in the house while Octavia positions beach chairs and towels. 

When Clarke strips down to her swimsuit she is met by wolf whistles from Monty and Jasper. She laughs but can’t help but feel a warmth growing in her cheeks. Bellamy says nothing about the look as he pulls off his own shirt. Clarke has seen Bellamy shirtless a number of times since she moved in, but something about his bronzed skin under the bright July sun makes him look even more like a Greek god than usual.

To distract herself, Clarke organizes everyone for sun screen application, knowing no one would put any on before they left.

“You’re being such a mom,” Jasper complains, but allows Clarke to cover his back and shoulders. The doctor in Clarke is proud of them as they cover their own faces and arms. When it comes to Bellamy, however, he puts up a hand.

“I don’t burn,” Bellamy says matter of factly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Clarke huffs, “do you want skin cancer?” Bellamy gives in and turns his back to her so that she can apply the lotion. Clarke’s hands are mildly trembling as she rubs them over his smooth, warm skin. Get a grip, her mind hisses. When she finishes his back, Bellamy turns and makes a spinning motion with his hand.

“What?” Clarke asks.

“Do you want skin cancer?” Bellamy says in a playful tone. 

“I can get it,” Clarke tells him, but Bellamy is already taking the bottle and moving behind her. She feels him push her hair onto one shoulder and the weight of his rough hands on her skin is almost too much for her. Clarke wonders if Bellamy feels it too. Chancing a look over her shoulder, Clarke sees Bellamy starring at her skin in concentration.

“This isn’t finger painting, Bell,” she says. His hands still and then drop from her skin. The loss of contact makes Clarke feel oddly cold for the 90 degree day.

“Are you two coming or what?” Octavia calls from where her and Lincoln are already jogging towards the shoreline. 

They follow the rest to the water, Miller and Lincoln immediately running in up to their waists. Clarke checks the temperature with her feet, deeming it to be colder than she would have liked. Octavia immediately submerges herself, urging Clarke to do the same. 

Clarke shakes her head, remaining with only her ankles covered in the salty water. Bellamy has also dunked himself under and is watching her from his position by Miller.

“The water’s fine,” Monty calls. 

“It’s freezing!” Clarke argues. She wouldn’t mind returning to the warm sand and reading for a bit. She looks back towards their area but before she can decide anything, strong arms are wrapping around her and picking her up.

“What the hell?” She shrieks. Bellamy is carrying her bridal style into the water. “Put me down.” He laughs and Clarke steels herself for what’s about to come. Instead of dropping her, however, Bellamy plunges both of them into the water. Clarke gasps when she resurfaces, wet tendrils of hair covering her face. Bellamy finally lets go of her and Clarke realizes she can stand with the water only reaching her chest. 

“Fuck you, Bellamy,” she spits. He’s still laughing as he reaches out to push the hair from her eyes.

“Is it so bad?” He asks. Clarke tries to keep a straight face, but Jasper splashes her and it turns into a free for all war. She laughs when Miller tackles Bellamy and when Octavia surprises Monty by grabbing his ankles under the water.

They stay out until dusk and then sleepily trek back to the house. There’s a long wait for the two showers but Clarke doesn’t even mind. It’s like summer camp, she decides, except no awkward pre-teens. 

That night Bellamy makes everyone grilled cheese and they eat outside on blankets. Clarke feels a youthful surge of excited energy as she eats the sandwich and watches the stars. 

“Look!” Monty’s pointing towards the sky and Clarke follows him to catch the final glimmer of what appears to be a shooting star. Clarke keeps her eyes fixed on the space where the flash of light had come from. 

“Making a wish, princess?” Bellamy asks.

“Are you?” He shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t even know what to wish for.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “me either.”

…

When Clarke wakes up on the morning of July 4th, she’s surprised to see Bellamy’s face. He isn’t right next to her, of course, but across the room on the bottom of the bunkbed. He’s still asleep, his curly locks falling haphazardly on the pillow and his face.

Clarke lets herself watch him for a few minutes before getting up. She finds Lincoln alone in the kitchen making pancakes.

“Good morning,” Clarke smiles when she notices he’s dropping in blueberries in the shape of smiley faces. The tall tattooed man that Clarke had first met while he was naked in Octavia’s bed has continued to surprise her with his quiet demeanor and general kindness.

“Good morning,” he smiles back, “you’re the first one up.”

“Patriotic pancakes?” Clarke notices the cut up strawberries on the counter waiting to be toppings.

“It’s Octavia’s favorite holiday,” he shrugs, mixing more batter.

“You know you’re a great guy, right?” Clarke asks. Lincoln feigns shock.

“Are you flirting with me, Clarke?” He laughs. He send her off to wake the others before the food gets cold. She doesn’t dare open Miller and Monty’s door, just knocks and calls to them through the wood. She’s met with groans and something that sounds like a “be right out.” 

Octavia doesn’t budge the first few times Clarke pokes her. 

“O,” she says loudly, “O, get up it’s breakfast.” Finally she opens her eyes, glaring at Clarke. She mumbles something into the pillow before turning on her stomach. Clarke resorts to literally pulling her out of bed until she concedes.

When she returns to her own room, Clarke finds Bellamy already awake. He’s pulled a t shirt on with his boxers, his hair still messy from sleep.

“Morning,” Clarke says.

“Hey, where’d you go?” His voice is gravely and low and Clarke wonders how long ago he got up.

“I was helping Lincoln out with breakfast,” she explains, “can you wake Jasper?” Before he can answer, Clarke skips out into the main room. 

The sleepy group devours Lincoln’s creations and chat excitedly about the day’s festivities.

“So there’s a parade at eleven,” Octavia explains to Clarke through a full mouth of pancakes. “And there’s a sand sculpture competition at four which, spoiler alert, we won last year.”

“Thanks to me,” Monty reminds her.

“Yes,” Octavia groans, “thanks to Monty’s incredible engineering skills our model of the White House took first.”

…

After the parade and another lunch of hastily made sandwiches, Monty, Miller, Jasper, Octavia, and Bellamy begin crafting their entry to the sandcastle competition. Lincoln somehow gets out of it and says he is going for a run around the town.

Clarke assures them that she’ll be no help so she spends most of the time they’re bullfinch reading under the umbrella. She accidentally dozes off and awakes to Monty and Jasper attempting to bury in in the sand. They’ve completely covered her legs up to her thighs and Clarke is embarrassed to admit that its a bit of a struggle to free herself. 

They finish their masterpiece, a large scale rendering of the Millennial Falcon, and await the judging. Sadly, they are beaten out by a group of middle schoolers and their sculpture of Marilyn Monroe. Everyone takes the loss hard, but celebrate their efforts with alcohol and watermelon. 

They have the most quintessential American dinner of burgers, fries, potato salad, and apple pie. Bellamy pretends to gag when he sees how much mustard Clarke puts on her burger.

As the sky grows dark, they return to the beach to watch the fireworks display.

“I thought you said there would be illegal fireworks,” Clarke says to Miller.

“We’ve gotten tame in our old age,” he shrugs. 

There’s a bonfire already going on the beach and people are strumming guitars and dancing through the sand. Clarke and Octavia dance together before Lincoln swoops in. Jasper then attempts to teach Clarke to swing dance. After a few failed attempts, she collapses back onto the sand beside Bellamy. 

He wordlessly hands her a beer. Clarke takes a long drink before looking back at him.

“Having fun?” She asks. Bellamy contemplates the question for a long moment, his eyes briefly flickering to where Octavia and Monty are dancing.

“Growing up we didn’t do this kind of thing,” he explains. “Our mom didn’t take us on beach trips or grill burgers. Not that she was a bad mother or anything, she just didn’t have the time. When I got old enough, I would bring O to see fireworks or visit Santa at the mall, wanting her to have those experiences.”

“You’re a great brother,” Clarke muses. Bellamy drops his head, but Clarke can see a faint blush grow on his tanned cheeks.

“It’s just weird, you know, being twenty-seven and finally feeling like you’re getting the experiences you missed out on.”

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” Clarke says. Bellamy meets her eyes and gives her a shy smile. Clarke wants him to go on, to tell her more about his youth. To get to know him and then have him get to know her.

She hasn’t done this ‘opening up’ thing in a while and she suspects he hasn’t either. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke begins with a shaky breath. Before she can implore him further, however, the rest of the group rejoins them.

“It’s about to begin!” Octavia squeals. Bellamy is still looking at Clarke expectantly, so she shakes her head and smiles. 

Clarke had never felt a deep affinity for fireworks before. She always enjoyed them on holidays and at the end of baseball games, but has never felt the sense of awe that she assumes only small children can experience. However, when the first blue burst hits the sky, Clarke is struck. 

Maybe its something about the night or the location or possibly people, but Clarke is in awe as the blast pounds her eardrums and the the sparks of color shoot up and then fall from the sky. Clarke wonders if this is hour religious people feel in Church or how climbers on Mount Everest feel when they look down and realize they’re higher than most everyone else in the world.

As the sky changes between colors and the blasts still all thoughts from her mind, Clarke turns to Bellamy. He’s watching the show, but seems to sense her gaze and meets it. His face is illuminated blue and red. 

The ringing in Clarke’s ears from the fireworks ends and the night is suddenly calm. Clarke looks around to see if anyone else feels it still. Judging by the way everyone is still looking up at the sky, an expression of childish reverence on their faces, she deduces that they do.

On the ferry ride home the next afternoon, Clarke again watches the waves. Bellamy again stands beside her in quiet companionable contemplation. 

Clarke could get dangerously used to this.


	5. The One With Finn Collins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has an unexpected love interest with some questionable tendencies. Bellamy is broody.

Clarke meets Finn in mid August. It’s partly by accident and partly his planning. Clarke definitely isn’t looking for anything romantic, still feeling like it hasn’t been that long since Wells. There’s also her general confusion over where her and Bellamy stand… 

Clarke's attempts to tamper down her crush were basically crushed after the Fourth of July, but Bellamy’s string of lady friends since they returned to the city are a constant reminder that she has been over-reading things. 

Her and Bellamy are friends. Real friends even, who joke around and steal food off of one another’s plates. Clarke is content with their relationship so she does her best to block out the sounds of other women giggling in his bedroom. It doesn’t matter, she tells herself, why would it?

Then Finn stumbles into her life and Clarke isn’t sure what to do about it. 

He’s a paramedic at a fire station close to Arkadia. Their paths have crossed a few times before and Clarke has always found him cute in passing, but never lingered on the thought until he approaches her one day.

Clarke’s part of the trauma team responding to his ambulance. Her focus is on the young woman who had been in a car accident, so Clarke barely notices anything about him or the other paramedic except the details they provide on the girl’s condition. 

Later, when her patient is stable and Clarke is filling out paperwork at a nurse’s station, the boyishly handsome paramedic approaches her with a smile.

“We meet again,” he says in a smooth voice. Clarke looks up at him in confusion.

“Excuse me?” Clarke crinkles her forehead, trying to place him. 

“Ambulance 61,” he pats the patch on his arm.

“Oh right,” Clarke nods, “you brought Clara Wilkins in.” 

“Car crash girl?” He asks. Clarke frowns at the description. 

“Um, yes…” He doesn’t seem to notice her discomfort at his wording. 

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s stable and seems to be doing well considering the circumstances.” Finn lets out a breath of relief.

“Good,” he smiles, “usually I don’t like knowing after we get them here, but I’m always glad when it turns out okay.”

“Well you guys did a good job keeping her from going into shock,” Clarke says. Finn shakes his head.

“You guys are the heroes, we’re just the transport.” Clarke finally returns his smile. 

“I’m Finn, by the way, Finn Collins.” He sticks out his hand in greeting. Clarke returns the gesture, briefly gripping his larger hand in hers.

“I’m Clarke Griffin.”

“Doctor Clarke Griffin,” he corrects her, tapping the badge on her lapel. Clarke smiles again, more genuinely this time. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Finn.”

“Likewise.”

For the next few days, Clarke sees more and more of the paramedic. She wonders if he’s always been around the hospital this much and she’s just now noticing him. He’s in the hallways, by the nurses stations, even in the cafeteria. When does he have time to drive his ambulance? 

Whenever they see one another, Finn greets her with a smile and brief conversation. Clarke likes him, she decides, if only in passing. It’s nice to have another friendly face to bump into around the hospital.

Still, Clarke is caught off guard when Finn formally asks her out. 

It’s about a week since their first interaction and Clarke is devouring a sandwich between surgeries. She’s so immersed in her task at hand that she doesn’t notice Finn until he slides into the seat across from her in the cafeteria.

“Hi,” he says. Clarke’s mouth is still full so her reply comes out muddled. Finn raises his eyebrows in amusement and gestures to her sandwich. 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

“Oh,” Clarke laughs, “no, I just have to get back soon.”

“Then I’ll be quick,” Finn’s tone grows serious. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay?”

“Dinner” is all he says. Clarke puts down the rest of her sandwich. 

“Dinner?”

“As in a restaurant, free fancy bread, glasses of wine…” Clarke chuckles at his elaboration.

“I know the implications of dinner,” she says.

“Is that a yes?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes Clarke’s heart beat faster. 

“Okay,” Clarke nods after a moment. To her amusement, Finn does a celebratory fist pump.

“Phew,” he sighs.

“Did you think I’d say no?” Clarke asks.

“Honestly, you’re kind of hard to read. But I decided to take a chance and risk total embarrassment.”

“Well I’m glad you did,” Clarke says. And she means it.

….

Clarke recounts the experience to Monty during their rooftop lunch the next day. 

“Wait, are we talking about the super cute one with shoulder length hair?” He asks.

“I suppose you could characterize him as such,” Clarke says coyly. 

“And he asked you out?” Monty’s excitement confuses Clarke.

“Is that so surprising?” She asks.

“Well no, obviously you’re beautiful, it’s just… I mean he’ll be the first, right?” The first since Wells, he means.

“Yup.”

“And you’re ready for this?” Monty asks. No, Clarke thinks, I’m not. 

After the initial giddiness, Clarke began doubting her quick reply to Finn’s offer. It’s only been three months since her break up with Wells, which would be less weird if they hadn't been together for ten years. What if it was too soon?

Octavia seems to think that Finn Collins asking her out is the single greatest thing to happen to Clarke since getting to move in with the Blakes. 

“You need this,” Octavia insists when she tells her about the handsome paramedic who’s asked her to dinner.

“I just don't know if I’m ready,” Clarke admits. Finn is handsome and charming, but every time Clarke considers actually starting to see someone new a wave of panic hits her. Does she even remember how to date? She thinks back to her sixteen year old self and tries to remember the mixture of elation and anxiety she felt when Wells finally asked her out in the form of a Homecoming invitation. 

The only other experience Clarke has had with beginning something new was a brief fling in college with a girl named Niylah. 

Sophomore year, Clarke and Wells went on a two week break. It had been Clarke’s idea, having felt like she was missing out on formative college experiences because of her codependence on him. 

She met Niylah at a party a few days after deciding to take some time apart. Clarke hadn’t planned on actually being with other people, she had more wanted the break to assert her overall independence. Clarke’s roommate, Jessa, however, had declared that this was her time to experience sexual liberation and brought her to a party that her boyfriend’s frat was throwing.

Clarke had spent the first hour clinging to Jessa’s side or drinking to seem occupied. After a few un-stimulating conversations with frat boys, Clarke noticed the young woman watching her from across the room. 

Niylah was like one of those bohemian college cool girls that Seventeen magazines referenced in style sections (her name was Niylah, for god’s sake!). Her braids and her flowy off-the-shoulder dress made her look more like she was at Coachella than a college party.

Clarke wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. She had accepted in high school that she seemed to have equal attraction to girls and guys, but she had never actually been with a girl before.

Thankfully, Niylah made the first move. She approached Clarke in a carefree manner, raising her cup in greeting. They talked briefly about general biographical things (Niylah was a senior, which made this just the more nerve-wracking for Clarke). 

When Clarke followed Niylah back to her apartment, she had a brief moment of guilt over Wells. But the alcohol in her system and the way Niylah’s dress barely covered the top of her thighs won Clarke over. 

They were together for about a week before Niylah made it clear that she was only looking for a few hookups and Clarke admitted that there was someone else in her life anyway. 

They parted on good terms and for the rest of the year they would nod cordially or wave across campus. 

But then she had been back with Wells and everything was like it had always been and Clarke didn’t have to worry about things like first dates for the next six years.

…

Regardless of if she’s ready or not, Clarke ultimately goes out with Finn because she said she would. 

It’s a Wednesday night, the time they both decided worked best in their schedules, and Clarke is set to meet Finn at an Irish pub. After letting Octavia try at least ten different outfits on her (“I’m not a Barbie doll, O!”) Clarke is still unsure about her chose ensemble.

She’s wearing a sleeveless blue dress the falls at her mid-thigh. It has a Peter Pan collar, and a bit of a mesh layer between her neck and breasts. 

She’s also got on a pair of cream colored wedges that boost her to about 5’7. She was hesitant about the heels since Finn really isn’t that much taller than her to begin with, but Octavia insisted they made the outfit. 

It’s relatively modest look, but still dressy and light enough for an end of summer date. (AN: I got this off of a look Eliza Taylor wore to SDCC one year).

“You look incredible,” Octavia gushes when she walks out of her room. “Bellamy, tell Clarke she looks incredible.” Bellamy looks up from his book, looking over Clarke with dark eyes and a clenched jaw. 

“You look incredible,” he says in a quiet voice, looking back down before Clarke can say anything. Octavia is shooing her towards the door anyway. 

“Go on, you don’t want to be late.” Clarke checks her lipstick in the mirror by the door, waves Octavia goodbye and steps out into the hall. She can faintly hear Octavia saying “they grow up so fast” from behind the door.   
…

The date isn’t perfect, but Clarke begins to think Finn might be. He likes Woodstock era folk music and grilled cheeses. He played the saxophone in high school band and is in an ultimate frisbee league. He’s goofy and sweet and Clarke can picture herself falling for him. 

Clarke would characterize the first few weeks of her relationship with Finn as a textbook whirlwind romance. She can’t remember if this is how she felt when her and Wells became official. She doesn’t think so, but then again she was only sixteen.

Clarke fully lets herself be pulled in by Finn and all of his corny romantic gestures and remarks. It’s nice to feel so carefree with someone, especially after the way things ended with Wells. 

Everyone seems happy that Clarke’s met someone, especially after Monty assures them of how attractive Finn is. 

Clarke has trouble reading Bellamy’s reactions to the situation. His initial response to the news of her date was a high five. 

When she gets home after her first date it is well after 1 AM as Finn had taken her to a nightclub afterward to hear one of his friend’s bands play. 

Clarke tries to be quiet as she comes in, knowing that Octavia and Bellamy both have early classes in the morning.

To Clarke’s surprise, Bellamy is sitting at the table when she walks in.

“Shit,” Clarke curses, nearly dropping her purse. “You scared me, Bell.” He gives her an innocent look as he closes his laptop.

“Have a good time?” He asks. Clarke wonders if he can tell by the flush in her cheeks that she’s a little more tipsy than she planned to be. 

“It was fun,” she admits.

“Did he see you home?” Bellamy asks. It takes Clarke a moment to understand what he means.

“Oh, he got me a cab,” Clarke explains, “he lives really close to where we were.” 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Bellamy says suddenly, packing up his work from the table. Clarke wonders if he was waiting up for her. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

Clarke is still so elated from her date that she doesn’t even think too much about Bellamy’s odd behavior, Instead falling asleep with an image of the longer haired boy in her mind.

Maybe this was just what she needed. A distraction both from her past and her hyperactive imagination. 

… 

Clarke brings Finn to meet everyone two weeks after they officially become a thing. It’s a causal weekday night at Grounders, nothing too formal or stressful for all of their sakes. As they enter the bar, she gives Finn’s hand a comforting squeeze, noting the worry on his face.

“They’ll love you,” she assures him. And for the most part, they do. Jasper and Monty get along especially with him, Octavia gives Clarke a not so subtle thumbs up after Finn tells them about the semester he spent off of college saving sea turtles in the Galapagos. Bellamy is uncharacteristically quiet throughout the evening.

“It’s my turn,” Clarke announces when she notices everyone’s drinks are empty. Kissing Finn’s cheek before hopping off of her stool to go to the bar. It isn't until after she orders another round of beers that she realizes Bellamy has followed her.

“What are you doing?” She asks as he reaches past her to grab the tray.

“Helping,” he responds curtly.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Clarke notes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Seriously, Bellamy, what’s up with you?” Clarke demands, tired of his broody eyes and dismissiveness throughout the night. 

“What’s up with you?” He retorts.

“Fine,” Clarke shakes her head and takes the tray back from him. “If you don’t like Finn that’s fine but don’t-"

“I never said I didn’t like him.” Bellamy interrupts. 

“Then why are you being so weird?” Bellamy clenches his jaw and stares Clarke dead on, obviously thinking over his next words. Clarke expects to argue more, but Bellamy surprises her with a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“You know how I am with newcomers,” Bellamy jokes. This causes a smile to form on Clarke’s face.

“Just give him a chance, Bellamy,” Clarke pleads. “Remember how wrong you were about me?” Bellamy rolls his eyes at her last comment before taking a dramatic breath.

“Fine,” he agrees, “for you.” The mixture of his tone and his eyes make Clarke’s heartbeat speed up in a way she knows it shouldn’t.

“Um, thank you,” she stutters out.

For his part, Bellamy does seem to make more of an effort to acknowledge Finn after they return with the drinks. 

Clarke relaxes at this, noting how much lighter she feels after talking to Bellamy. It’s just that she was worried about him making Finn feel uncomfortable, Clarke reasons to herself, it isn’t like she needs Bellamy’s approval for anything.

They all end the night on civil terms, but when they return to the apartment (Finn in tow), Bellamy goes to bed without saying a word. 

That night, as Clarke tries to fall asleep under the weight of Finn’s arms, Clarke can’t stop thinking about Bellamy. 

…

Things remain relatively normal between Bellamy and Clarke after her and Finn start dating. As long as Finn isn’t around and his name doesn’t come up in conversation, Bellamy treats her like he did before that night at Grounders. 

Clarke decides she’s finally found a nice balance between having Finn as her boyfriend and Bellamy as her room friend. 

Having Finn also makes Clarke feel less self conscious about Bellamy’s dates, which have slowed considerably since the semester started back up. 

In Clarke’s head, her and Bellamy have a weird understanding about their romantic lives. He doesn’t tell her about his and Clarke saves her stories about Finn for Octavia or Monty. 

Clarke appreciates Bellamy's attempts to be cordial with Finn when he stays the night or comes by to pick up Clarke. Bellamy does remark, however, that he thinks it’s odd that Clarke never stays at Finn’s place.

“I don’t know why,” she shrugs, “I’ve just never been.”

“You’ve never been to your boyfriend’s apartment?” Bellamy asks. “You’ve been dating for like a month.” Truthfully, Clarke also thought it was strange that Finn was so adamant about sleeping at Clarke’s and had never taken her back to his apartment, even when he claimed it was right by wherever they were. 

Finn told her it was because his roommate was kind of a dick and Clarke wondered what Finn would characterize Bellamy as. She tries not to worry too much about it, not wanting to create phantom drama because Bellamy put some thought into her head. 

Her and Bellamy’s unspoken agreement eventually comes crashing down, however. 

Clarke and Finn walk into Drop Ship one afternoon after they both get off their shifts. Finn apparently has big plans for a date in the city, but Clarke insists that she needs caffeine and a change of clothes first. 

Finn had been hesitant about going back to the coffee shop, having been once before with Clarke. He claimed he wasn’t a fan of the lattes, but Clarke had noticed that it seemed like he and Murphy knew each other the first time he ordered. Between their tightened jaws and narrowed eyes, Clarke sensed a weird vibe between the two. 

To Clarke’s surprise, Bellamy is sitting on their couch, his usual flat white on the coffee table beside his laptop.

“Hey,” she greets him. 

“Hey, you,” he seems genuinely happy to see her until he notices Finn standing a few feet away. Bellamy’s smile barely falters before he nods at Finn. 

“Shouldn’t you be sculpting young minds right about now?” Clarke asks, checking her watch.

“I cancelled my afternoon classes for a faculty meeting that never even happened,” Bellamy explains. “But I was actually just leaving.”

“You don’t look like you were just leaving,” Finn says. Bellamy shoots him a look.

“Bell, your coffee is practically full,” Clarke laughs, “can’t we join you for a bit?” Bellamy looks down at his mug with a look of betrayal.

“Yeah, why not?” He plops back down. 

“I’ll go order,” Finn gives Clarke a quick kiss which she doesn’t return because she can feel Bellamy’s eyes on them. Finn doesn’t seem to notice as he moves toward the counter. 

Clarke sits down beside Bellamy, looking over the document open on his computer.

“Dissertation work?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Bellamy says, his voice once again light. Clarke wonders how Bellamy’s demeanor can so rapidly change with and without Finn’s presence. She doesn’t have time to ask before Finn returns. He sits down in an armchair by Bellamy.

He looks even more uncomfortable than he did when they first walked in and Clarke raises an eyebrow. Finn ignores her and addresses Bellamy instead.

“How’s college life?” He asks.

“The usual,” Bellamy deadpans, “papers, meetings, failed exams.”

“Don’t forget killer parties,” Finn jokes. 

“You know I’m a professor and not a student, right?” Bellamy asks.

“Well you know what they say,” Finn shrugs, “those who cant do, teach.”

“And those who fail medical school become paramedics,” Bellamy retorts.

Before Clarke can chastise either of them Murphy arrives then with two mugs and a scowl on his face.

“Here you go, space walker,” Murphy says in a tone that is even more hostile than usual. He places the two mugs on the table as he serves Finn a long look.

“Thanks, Murphy,” Clarke says. When the barista turns to her, his face has softened into what almost looks like pity. It makes Clarke’s stomach clench. 

“You guys know each other?” Bellamy asks once Murphy is out of earshot. 

“We, uh, we actually go pretty far back,” Finn says, looking uncomfortable.

“Really?” Clarke asks. “You didn’t mention that last time.”

“What does it matter?” Finn snaps. His tone is probably harsher than he intends it to be so Clarke lets it slide. Bellamy, however, does not.

“Take it easy,” Bellamy says leaning forward so that his body is blocking Clarke’s in an unconscious effort. Finn backs down, looking a bit sheepish.

“We aren’t exactly friends,” he explains, “I don’t think he likes having me in here.”

“He acts like he doesn’t like having anyone in here,” Clarke attempts to joke but both men remain unmoved from their states of tension.

“What did he call you?” Bellamy asks.

“What?” 

“He called you space something,” Bellamy says. “High school nickname?”

“Space walker,” Finn hisses, “and it’s honestly none of your business.” Clarke is surprised by Finn’s sudden hostility. 

“What’s your deal?” Bellamy asks.

“No, man,” Finn stands and looms over Bellamy, “what’s your deal with me?” Heads have turned to look in their direction. 

“Stop it,” Clarke finally snaps, “what is wrong with you guys?” They both look at her like dogs who have just been scolded.

“I think it’s time for me to head out,” Bellamy says, quickly packing his laptop away.

“Good idea,” Finn says, Clarke shoots him a look. 

“Bell,” she sighs. She moves to follow him to the door but Finn’s hand around her wrist stops her.

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke,” he says.

“Just give me a sec,” she pulls away and hurries to the door. Bellamy is out on the sidewalk, looking at something on his phone.

“What was that?” Clarke asks. Her presence must surprise him, because Bellamy drops his phone at her tone.

“Jesus, Clarke,” he curses as they both bend to pick it up. Clarke grabs it first, holding it to her chest as she meets Bellamy’s eyes. They’re both crouching on the sidewalk, a disappointed scowl on her face, a rare look of sadness on his.

“What’s going on with you?” She asks. Bellamy closes his eyes and lets out a rough sigh.

“I’m sorry if I messed up your date,” he says.

“You didn’t mess anything up,” Clarke sighs, “if anything Finn was being kind of crazy. I’ve never seen him like that.” 

“Maybe you should reevaluate your feelings.”

“Why don’t you like him?” Clarke asks. Bellamy’s face twists into a sad smile as he shakes his head.

“You really don’t know, princess?” He asks. Clarke clenches her jaw and stands before she says or does anything she knows she shouldn’t.

“I should get back,” she says. Bellamy picks himself up as well and nods.

“Okay, Clarke” is all he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the sporadic times between uploads, this semester has already started out rough but I'm trying to keep to my twice a week schedule. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter and the end doesn't seem too angsty...


	6. The One When its Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds herself suddenly dateless on her favorite holiday until a certain curly haired professor swoops in. But the night can't be that simple, can it?

September goes by in a blur, with the hospital and Finn keeping Clarke busy. She still makes time for the gang, of course, and more often than not keeps Finn separate from the others. 

Ever since the Drop Ship meltdown, Clarke has been cautious not to have Bellamy and Finn in the same room for long. 

Finn still stays the night at the apartment every so often, making continuous excuses for why they can’t go back to his. Bellamy rolls his eyes when he sees Finn around, but keeps quiet. Clarke appreciates this. 

Clarke decides not to push the Murphy thing, afraid Finn will blow up again or shut her out. It really didn’t even matter, she reasons to herself, so what if Murphy and her boyfriend had a weird backstory? Murphy was weird with a lot of people. 

And for the most part, Finn is great. He’s still sweet and attentive and makes Clarke feel young and giddy. It’s what she needs right now, so she tries to banish her doubts and just live in the moment. 

Autumn has always been Clarke’s favorite season. She loves the way the leaves change alongside people’s wardrobes. She loves butternut squash everything and being able to drink hot coffee without it being sweltering outside. She loves fireplaces and down comforters and sitting inside on gusty days (not winter gusty, just fall gusty).

Clarke’s just generally her best self in the fall. Wells always teased her about her tendency to acquire “summer blues.” Surprisingly, this past summer was one of Clarke’s best. So with that recent accomplishment and Finn’s presence, Clarke can only imagine how great the next season could be. 

And it is great. At first, anyways. 

Clarke introduces Finn to her mother and Kane over dinner at their brownstone and is surprised by how well Abby and Finn get along. Clarke personally feels like it’s a bit early in their relationship to be introducing each other to their families but Finn insists that he wants to meet her infamous mother and prove how serious he is about her.

Kane is a little less enamored by Finn, but Clarke knows he’s just trying to play the overprotective father role for her. Regardless, dinner goes well and Clarke realizes just how entrenched she’s become in her new relationship. 

It isn’t lost on Clarke that, for all his insistence, she can’t meet Finn’s family because they all live in Maine. Finn assures her that if they ever come to the city or if he ever goes for a visit, she’ll be introduced. 

However, when Finn does go to Portland he assures Clarke that she shouldn’t join him. He’s heading home a few days before Halloween and staying through the weekend to “work out some issues with the family business.” 

Finn tells Clarke he’ll just be in a lot of meetings and she’d have to spend a lot of time with his parents, which “would be torture for her.” 

Clarke has no idea what Finn’s “family business” is, but she’s more confused about how he went from so adamantly wanting them to meet each other’s families to suddenly blocking her out.

He plays it off like he doesn’t want to go, promising that he’d much rather spend Halloween watching cheesy horror movies with her. 

“Then I’ll come to keep you company,” she offers. “We can watch scary movies in between your meetings.”

“No,” he answers quickly, and then follows with, “I wouldn’t ask you to take off work for this kind of thing. Really, you’ll be better off here.” The finality in his voice silences Clarke but raises a million internal questions. 

Why was he suddenly being so weird?

Clarke ignores the nagging voice in her head and decides not to mention it to Bellamy or Octavia, knowing they’d say something reasonable that would validate Clarke’s worries and make everything worse. 

So she simply tells them Finn’s going home for a family emergency and she couldn’t get the days off to go with him.

Granted, Bellamy doesn’t even suggest that Clarke should go with Finn. He just nods in acknowledgment as Octavia points out that Clarke now has nothing to do on Halloween. 

Clarke doesn’t really care that she doesn’t have plans for her once favorite holiday. She could probably do with a night off anyway. Octavia’s going to a college party that Bellamy seems to disapprove of. Monty, Jasper, and Miller are doing a bar crawl which they invite Clarke to but she means it when she says she’d rather spend a low-key night handing out candy in case anyone came to the apartment. 

Bellamy doesn’t even tell Clarke what he’s doing and she can only imagine how he’ll be out with some gorgeous woman taking shots out of gourds or something (she isn’t sure where her mind conjures this specific image). 

…

Two days before Halloween, Clarke is sitting down to breakfast when Bellamy ceremoniously plops down beside her with a smile. Clarke isn’t used to him being so animated this early in the morning and wonders what’s gotten into him. 

“Morning, Princess,” Bellamy chirps. 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Bellamy bites his lip, 

“What’s up?” She asks.

“I need a favor,” Bellamy says. Clarke has only taken one sip of her coffee, not mentally prepared for what Bellamy could ask. He’s never asked her for a ‘favor’ before.

“Well,” Bellamy begins to correct himself, “its partly a favor and partly me helping you.”

“I’m intrigued,” Clarke urges him on. 

“So there’s this Halloween party that the chair of my department throws every year. It’s at a bar in Tribeca, there’s a costume contest, and shitty music…It’s kind of the bane of my semester.”

“And this has to do with me because…?”

“Because I want you to come,” Bellamy says so matter of factly that it makes Clarke’s head spin.

“Explain to me how this is simultaneously a favor and a good deed on your part.” 

Bellamy clears his throat and folds his hands in a very professorial manner. It seems as if he’s about to lead a lecture. Clarke tries not to recognize how much her skin warms and her heartbeat quickens when Bellamy gets into his teacher mode. 

“I hate going alone even more than I hate the concept itself. And I’m giving you something to do on Halloween instead of hiding out in your bed with Netflix.” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“How kind of you.”

“So do you want to or not? Because if you do, we need to figure out our costume pronto.”

“Costume? Singular?”

“Didn’t I say it was a couple’s costume contest?”

“Why would it specifically be a couple’s costume contest?” Bellamy shrugs.

“I don’t know, but I’ve lost the past two years to fucking Cage.”

“Cage?” 

“He’s the early North American professor and the son of Dean Wallace.”

“So you want me to come so that we can have a rocking costume and rub it in your archenemy’s face?”

“Essentially, yeah.”

“Fine,” Clarke agrees with a noncommittal shrug. Bellamy seems surprised. 

“So you’re in?”

“Yes.” 

Bellamy’s practically beaming as he begins rambling off a list of costume ideas he’s had over the past year. 

It’s endearing to see him so excited so Clarke even agrees to goes as some nerdy history couple.

His first idea is Mark Antony and Cleopatra, which Clarke shuts down as a precaution. 

“Couldn’t this be seen as cultural appropriation?” Clarke asks.

“You know Cleopatra was ethnically Greek and not Egyptian, right?” 

“Well I’m not Greek either and I’d still be the one wearing a headdress.”

“It’s for history Clarke!” 

They eventually settle on being Paris and Helen of Troy which seems slightly more conspicuous to Clarke. 

Clarke leaves it to Bellamy to collect all the materials for the costumes, agreeing to help him assemble them later that night.

Pinning Bellamy’s chiton together, Clarke is transported back to her childhood. Her father had always insisted that homemade Halloween costumes were the best and would help Clarke assemble whatever her dream costume was for that year.

“You okay over there?” Bellamy asks softly, putting down the gilded belt he’s been working on. 

“Huh?”

“You’re kind of spacing out on me, princess.” 

“Just thinking about how I wish it was still socially acceptable to go trick-or-treating,” Clarke half-fibs. 

“Perks to being an adult though, you can buy as much candy as you want with no one’s permission or judgement.”

“I feel like there’s some judgment from the checkout people…” They laugh in agreement and Clarke is reminded of how good it feels to just sit and talk with Bellamy. She never would have imagined upon their first meeting that he would put her so at ease.

…

Clarke is surprisingly impressed with her and Bellamy’s handiwork on their costumes. Not to toot her own horn, but Clarke looks fucking fantastic in her outfit. Miller and Monty come by to see them before they head out to their bar crawl. They’re both dressed as pirates. When Clarke calls them ‘adorable’ they feign offense.

“We’re sexy and badass,” Monty corrects her. 

“Well, I am,” Miller says. “Monty is adorable.” 

Clarke barely catches a glimpse of Jasper before the three leave. He’s dressed in colonial garb and Clarke wonders if he’s supposed to be a founding father.

“Sam Adams,” Bellamy tells her later, “he has a picture of a beer taped to his chest.” Of course, Clarke thinks with a smile.

Octavia had left a few hours before to head to Lincoln’s before her party. She made them promise to take pictures to show her later. 

Her and Bellamy take the subway to the bar that his department head has rented out for the night. It’s decked out in Halloween decorations and filled with more people than Clarke anticipated.

“I thought you said this was just for the history department,” Clarke whispers to Bellamy when they arrive.

“A lot of the faculty tends to come,” Bellamy shrugs, then looks at Clarke with an expression of concern. “Is this okay?” 

“It’s fine,” Clarke quickly assures him, “just haven’t been around this many professors since my graduation.”

“How about we start at the bar then?” Bellamy suggests. Clarke nods enthusiastically, linking their arms to allow him to lead him through the crowd. The party goers are an interesting mix of people. Some seem close to her and Bellamy’s ages, but the majority are older. 

Bellamy also seems to know everyone, which shouldn’t come as a surprise since they’re his coworkers, but Clarke is surprised by how excited everyone seems by his presence.

“Aren’t you Mr. Popular,” Clarke teases after the third person has come up to greet Bellamy and tell them how happy they are to see him. 

“Believe it or not, some people find me a joy to be around.”

“I’m starting to see that,” Clarke hums. Bellamy smiles and moves his hand to rest on the small of her back as they walk towards a table. On the way, they are intercepted by Superman. 

Bellamy introduces him as his department chair, Charles Pike. 

“Glad you could make it, Blake!” Pike enthusiastically claps Bellamy on the back. 

“Wouldn’t miss my favorite party of the year,” Bellamy says with a forced smile. Pike doesn’t seem to notice this, however, as his expression doesn’t falter when he turns his attention on Clarke.

“And who do we have here?”

“This is Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy introduces her, “she’s a surgeon at Arkadia hospital.” Clarke notices Bellamy doesn’t explain the nature of their relationship.

“My my, how impressive!” 

Bellamy steers Clarke away from Pike but they are immediately met by another man. 

“Bellamy, my boy,” an older, white haired man says. He seems to have appeared out of nowhere. He’s only wearing a grey three-piece suit and Clarke wonders if it’s his costume.

“Dean Wallace,” Bellamy shakes his hand, “how are you?”

“Admittedly, I’d be better if I didn’t feel so obligated to attend these things.” Bellamy laughs. Clarke can’t decipher whether or not Bellamy actually likes this man. 

“Well I’ve always appreciated your honesty, sir.” 

“I’m afraid my son doesn’t feel the same way,” Wallace grimaces. “Now let me guess,” he looks between Bellamy and Clarke for a minute. “Obviously Helen of Troy and…Paris?”

“Spot on,” Bellamy beams. 

“Well it’s good to see you with such a beautiful companion,” the older man smiles. Clarke can sense a blush creeping onto Bellamy’s cheeks. Or that could just be the alcohol.

“I can see why he’s so enamored with you,” Wallace says to Clarke with a wink, “you truly are a woman worth fighting wars over.”

“Thank you,” she says. 

Bellamy pulls her back to the bar after Wallace walks away to find his son. 

“Sorry about that,” he says.

“About all of your coworkers seeming stunned that you could get as hot of a date as me?” Clarke asks, bumping Bellamy’s hip with her own to punctuate her joke. 

“I just know that it can be a bit demeaning,” Bellamy sighs, “obviously you’re gorgeous, but can they not think of anything else to say?” Clarke stops walking and turns to Bellamy.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” She asks. Bellamy looks struck for a moment before he scrubs a hand over his face.

“Is that all you took away form my defending your honor?” 

“Am I truly worth fighting wars over?” Clarke leans closer to Bellamy’s face, waggling her eyebrows. Bellamy only responds with an eye roll and lightly pushes Clarke back to continue his quest for more alcohol. 

They hang out with one of Bellamy’s few actual friends from the college, Sinclair, who’s an engineering professor. He’s a few years older than Bellamy but Clarke can immediately see why Bellamy likes him. 

…

By the time the costume contest finally begins, Clarke is fairly tipsy and hopes her costume is still all in place.

“Don’t mess this up for me, Griffin,” Bellamy whispers in her ear right before it’s their turn to walk out. Clarke knows he’s joking and equally as inebriated as she is, but swats him on the chest anyway.

“If we win,” she whispers back, “it will be completely thanks to my natural goddess-like tendencies.”

“For the last time, Helen isn’t a goddess,” Bellamy hisses.

Before Clarke can retort, Pike is announcing their names and Bellamy leads Clarke onto the stage. They receive a series of cheers and wolf-whistles and Clarke indulgently gives a twirl. 

Afterwards, they wait between the other couples for the judging to finish. Clarke looks over towards Cage. He and his wife(?) are dressed as Han Solo and Princess Leia, which in Clarke’s opinion is completely unoriginal.

Clarke gives Bellamy’s hand a hopeful squeeze, meeting his eyes for a moment. 

Bellamy gives her a warm smile, his eyes scanning he face, landing on her lips for a moment longer than necessary. Clarke’s about to indulge herself by doing the same when she hears someone calling her name. 

“Huh?” She looks up to see Pike standing in front of them, holding a trophy.

“Congratulations,” he says, handing the trophy to Bellamy with a handshake. Bellamy gives an unprofessional whoop, which sends Clarke into a fit of laughter.

She nearly loses her balance when Bellamy unexpectedly wraps her in a one-armed hug and presses a hard kiss to her forehead. Clarke doesn’t even have time to process the action before they’re moving off the stage.

“Take that, Wallace,” Bellamy says as they pass the couple. Clarke whispers a chastisement and quickly ushers him away. 

“Did you see the look on that asshole’s face?” Bellamy asks once Clarke has pushed him into a booth. 

“Maybe lower your voice,” Clarke suggests, “this is a work event, Bell.”

“It’s Halloween,” Bellamy groans, “if I can’t stick it to him tonight, when can I? Don’t we live in a democracy?”

“Ok,” Clarke stands back up and moves toward Bellamy’s side of the table, “I think this a sign that it’s time to head home.”

“Well we did accomplish our task,” Bellamy muses softly.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Clarke teases as she helps him stand. Bellamy swings an arm around her shoulders 

“You’re welcome too.”

…

They Uber back to the apartment, both not trusting themselves not to get lost on the subway. Clarke goes straight to her room to change out of her costume, realizing in the car how uncomfortable the bed sheet suddenly was. 

After throwing on a t shirt and pajama pants, Clarke moves back to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Bellamy’s door is still closed and although Clarke feels a bit weird ending the night without saying anything to him, she decides not to knock on it.

She steps back into her own bedroom, takes a long sip of water and plugs in her recently dead phone. It’s about to come back to life when she hears a knock.

Clarke turns around to find Bellamy leaning against her open doorway. He has traded his chiton for a white t shirt and joggers but still looks as regal as ever. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says.

“Not like I had anywhere else to be,” Clarke shrugs, then gives Bellamy a teasing smile. “I had fun, though.”

“Us professor types aren’t that boring.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Bellamy. I know you could have brought one of your usual dates, so I appreciate that you chose me.”

“It’s nice to spend the night with someone I actually care about for a change,” he says. There are so many implications in his words that Clarke can’t even begin to unpack. 

He’s also staring at her with such intensity that she thinks she might faint. 

Clarke wills herself to get it together enough to speak.

“Sleep tight, Paris,” she says.”

“You too, princess,” Bellamy gives her shoulder a quick squeeze before walking out of the room.

Clarke shuts her door and checks her phone to see three missed call from Octavia. She’s about to call her back when she hears a desperate knocking outside. She pokes her head out to see Bellamy walking towards the door. 

“A little late for trick or treaters,” Bellamy huffs. Clarke follows him to the door. He looks through the peephole, gives a confused look, and undoes the locks.

Standing in the hallway is a girl. A woman, really. A beautiful woman with perfectly sculpted cheekbones and big brown eyes. Clarke is almost too distracted by her looks to notice how angry she looks or that there are tears in her eyes.

“Can we help you?” Bellamy asks. The woman lets out a surprised huff, looking between Bellamy and Clarke.

“You have another boyfriend too?” The stranger asks, looking up at the ceiling and shutting her eyes for a moment. “This just gets worse and worse.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks. The woman looks back at her, fire growing in her eyes.

“We need to talk,” she says, moving to enter the apartment. Bellamy stops her with a hand to her shoulder, which she brushes off.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

“I’m Finn’s girlfriend,” she says with a snarl. “His other girlfriend, I guess.” Clarke balks at her, feeling the breath leave her body. Her eyesight feels like its dimming and circling in on the beautiful stranger in her hallway. 

Finn. Girlfriend. Finn’s girlfriend? 

Clarke blinks a few times and notices that the woman’s expression has grown softer. 

“So you didn’t know?” She asks in a quiet voice.

“Know?” Clarke whispers. She shakes her head to get her bearings. She takes a step back and lays a hand on Bellamy’s arm to instruct him to do the same.

“Um, come on in,” Clarke says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long update wait, life has gotten a bit hectic lately. I still have big plans for this story so please bear with me! As per usual, thanks for all the continuing support <3


	7. The One With the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things come to light and as a relationship ends, an unconventional friendship begins

Clarke feels mildly like she’s about to pass out. Or vomit. Or both. 

She doesn’t even realize she’s leading the woman inside and towards the couch until she herself is standing beside it. Clarke looks over at Bellamy who’s still standing by the door, looking just as shell-shocked as she feels. 

They share a look that conveys how crazy this all seems. Clarke looks back at the woman, noting the confusion and discomfort on her face.

“Can you give us a bit, Bell?” Clarke asks in a hoarse voice.

“Clarke, I-” 

“It’s okay,” she assures him. Bellamy throws her a look of concern before heading back to his bedroom. 

“Well he doesn’t seem too upset,” Finn’s other girlfriend notes.

“Bellamy’s just my roommate,” Clarke explains, sitting on the other side of the couch. 

“Look,” the stranger runs a hand through her dark brown hair, “I’m not here to fight you or anything. I just want to know what the fuck is happening to my life.”

“I think I’d like that too,” Clarke agrees. “I’d also like to know your name.”

“I’m Raven,” the other woman sticks out a hand, “Raven Reyes.” Clarke hesitantly shakes Raven’s hand, still contemplating the utter absurdity of this moment.

“Clarke Griffin.”

“I know,” Raven sighs. “Your friend told me.”

“Friend?”

“Octavia.” Clarke thinks back on the three missed calls. 

“You know Octavia?” Clarke is now more confused than ever.

“I met her tonight,” Raven explains, “at a party. She saw Finn and said something about him being out of town and asking if Clarke knew where he was. I had no idea what was going on. One minute I was dancing with my boyfriend of five years and the next I was being told he was seeing someone else.”

5 years? 5 years??? Now Clarke definitely thinks she’s going to be sick. She can’t even think of how to respond, but thankfully Raven continues talking.

“So I basically ran out of the party. Your friend went after me and I kind of coerced her into giving me your address.”

“Coerced?”

“You must think I’m crazy,” Raven cries, “I just couldn’t stand to look at him but I needed to know.”

“I…I don’t think you’re crazy,” Clarke says quietly. “So you just came straight here?”

“Well I couldn’t exactly make a pit stop at our shared apartment.”

“You live together.” Clarke states. It isn’t a question since it makes so much sense. Raven nods grimly.

“Going on two years.”

“Oh my God,” Clarke drops her head into her hands, “no wonder he never wanted me to come over.” Raven doesn't say anything, just looks warily at the coffee table. “Jesus, is he even from Maine?”

“Maine?” Raven snorts. “No. I’m originally from Portland, though.”

“He said he was going home this weekend,” Clarke moans. 

“Guess he couldn't think of a more original cover story.” 

“Jesus,” Clarke curses. She looks over at Raven who’s expression has gone from fiery to forlorn. 

“If it’s worth anything, Raven, I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” the other girl gives Clarke a sad smile. The two sit in silence for a few minutes, taking everything in. It’s well past two AM and Clarke goes between wanting to crawl into bed and wanting to run to Finn to demand an explanation.

“I just can’t believe this,” Clarke says.

“Welcome to my world,” Raven laughs dryly. “I don’t even know how to face him.” Clarke considers this and says the first thing that comes to her mind.

“Stay here tonight,” she offers, registering later how crazy it sounds.

“What?” Raven asks.

“You can stay on the couch if you like, it’s the least I can offer. We can figure everything else out in the morning.” 

Raven considers her words for a minute, looking down at her hands. 

“I guess I kind of have nowhere else to go,” she admits. 

Clarke grabs an extra blanket and pillow from her bedroom, along with an oversized t-shirt (checking first to make sure it isn’t one of Finn’s).

“In case you wanted to change,” she explains as she hands the shirt to Raven. Raven looks down at her tight black dress and smiles. Her eyes are still red and bleary, but she looks better than she did an hour ago. 

“You know you’re taking this so much better than I did,” Raven sniffs.

“You were together for years,” Clarke notes, “I just met him two months ago.”

“Still, if a girl showed up at my door and told me she was dating my boyfriend, I probably would have decked her.”

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t,” Clarke says with a genuine laugh. 

She leaves Raven to the couch and crashes into her bed. Clarke allows herself a few minutes to silently sob into her pillow. 

She checks her phone for the first time in hours and notices that along with another two missed calls and a long text from Octavia, Finn has called her seven times and left a string of texts.

The first reads: “We need to talk.”

And then: “Whatever you think you know, please hear me out.” And then several forms of apologies. 

Clarke buries the phone under her pillow and presses her face into its cool surface. 

Her phone pings again and Clarke considers throwing it against the wall. She hesitantly checks the ID and sighs in relief.

Bellamy Blake: Are you okay?

Clarke smiles at the thought of Bellamy still waiting up in his room, choosing to text her instead of coming across the hall out of respect for her space. 

Clarke Griffin: No. But I will be.

Bellamy Blake: Try and get some sleep, princess 

Clarke actually smiles as she lingers on the message before turning off her phone. 

….

Clarke endures a sleepless night, emerging from her room just after eight. She definitely didn’t forget the events of the previous evening, but is a little startled to find Raven still sleeping on their couch. 

Bellamy is sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in his hands and a soft but annoyed expression on his face. Clarke quietly walks over to him, careful not to disturb Raven.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, “she literally sleeps like the dead. In fact, I had to check her pulse earlier just to make sure.”

Clarke slumps down in the seat across from him and rubs her eyes. 

“Just to be clear,” Bellamy says, “you invited Finn’s other girlfriend to spend the night on our couch?”

“She lives with him, Bellamy,” Clarke sighs.

“For the record, I’m going to beat Collins’ ass later, but right now I’m more concerned about why you thought this was a good idea,” he motions to Raven’s still sleeping form. 

“I’m the home wrecker in this situation, Bell.” 

“Exactly! What if she had gone all slasher and tried to smother you in your sleep?”

“Well she obviously didn’t, and besides, I kind of feel like I owe her.”

“You don’t, the only person in the wrong here is Finn.”

“Bellamy, I’m-”

Raven stirs and Clarke freezes. 

“The fuck,” Raven mutters as she sits up and looks around the apartment.

“Um, hi,” Clarke says, earning a kick under the table from Bellamy.

“So I’m guessing last night wasn’t a candy and alcohol induced nightmare?” Raven sighs.

“Unfortunately not,” Clarke says, offering her a wary smile. Raven extracts herself from the blanket and stands up, inspecting her shirt.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asks and another kick from Bellamy makes her realize what a stupid question it is.

“Considering everything, not too bad,” Raven shrugs.

Bellamy stands up from the table and makes his way over to her.

“We weren’t properly introduced last night,” Bellamy offers Raven a hand, “I’m Bellamy Blake. Clarke’s…roommate.”

“Raven Reyes, I’m…complicated.”

“I’ve actually got to head out,” Bellamy says, turning back to Clarke. “You gonna be okay here?”

“Of course,” Clarke gives him what is hopefully a convincing smile. Bellamy doesn’t seem sold, but heads to his room anyway to grab his back.

“Text if you need me,” he tells Clarke in a quiet voice before he heads out. 

“I was about to make another pot of coffee,” Clarke tells Raven when she notices her eyeing her mug.

“Oh, that’s okay. Actually, can I buy you breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” 

“It’s the least I can do after dropping all this on you and I’d like to talk more…I don’t really have anyone else I can do that with right now.”

“Sure,” Clarke smiles, “breakfast would be nice. There’s a cafe downstairs that makes a mean omelet.” 

Clarke changes into leggings and an oversized sweater, not caring if she still looks disheveled. Raven has put her black dress back on and Clarke lets her borrow a cardigan both to protect herself from the chilly fall day and to minimize the appearance of looking like she was wearing last night’s clothing. 

As they enter Drop Ship, Clarke is too preoccupied in her own mind to realize that Raven has stopped short just in front of the counter. Clarke looks back at her, a questioning expression on her face. Raven isn’t looking at her though. Clarke follows the other woman’s eyes to the counter. 

“Murphy?” Raven asks. The barista seems just as surprised to see her, maybe even more so to see her with Clarke.

“Raven. What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“It’s the longest story of my life,” Raven sighs. Murphy looks straight on at Clarke and grimaces.

“You knew?” Clarke asks. Raven gives her a confused look. 

“Did you?” He asks.

“What is going on?” Raven asks. Clarke waits to see if Murphy will offer up an explanation. When he doesn’t, she steels herself to face Raven.

“I, uh, brought Finn here a couple of times. He said he knew Murphy but not from where…” 

A flicker of betrayal passes through Raven’s eyes as she turns back to Murphy.

“You didn’t say anything,” she says in a quiet, tired voice.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Murphy shrugs his shoulders, but his face betrays how bad he must feel. “And I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me.”

“I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I would have appreciated a heads up if you knew my boyfriend was cheating on me.”

Murphy nods.

“Anyway,” Raven sighs, “I’ll take a black coffee, an avocado toast, and whatever she wants.” Murphy and Clarke both seem stunned at Raven’s quick demeanor change. Who is this girl, Clarke wonders. 

Once they’re seated with their food and coffee, Clarke chances asking Raven about Murphy.

“Can I ask about Murphy?”

“I’m assuming Finn didn’t tell you.”

“Obviously he didn’t tell me a lot of things.”

“Murphy and I met Freshman year of college, a few months before I met Finn. We were kind of immediate best friends. Then I met Finn at a New Year’s Eve party and things started moving pretty fast with him. I thought Murphy was just jealous at first, but he had Emori-”

“Emori?” Clarke asks.

“His girlfriend. Well, I guess fiancé, now,” Raven explains. Clarke nearly chokes on her coffee. Murphy was engaged?? She would definitely have to get that full story later.

“Anyway, Murphy never liked Finn, always said he felt something was off with him. He was always trying to convince me that he wasn’t good enough for me and tried to prove that something was going on. I finally got sick of it and told him that if he wasn’t okay with my relationship, I didn’t need him in my life. Pretty ironic, huh? That I dropped him instead of Finn?”

“How could you have known?” Clarke asks in a quiet voice, still processing Raven’s whole story. 

“We haven’t spoken in probably a year, I’m pissed as fuck at him for not telling me when he first saw Finn with you, but mostly I just feel like an idiot.” Raven stares down at her plate for a long moment.

“He called Finn something once,” Clarke remembers as she says it, “Space walker, I think.” Clarke’s surprised when Raven breaks out into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she says, “space walker. I had completely forgotten.” 

“What does it mean?” Clarke asks.

“I was doing this project on designing space suits and Finn made some comment about why he didn’t understand why astronauts really needed all that protective covering because people go sky diving without suits and masks. I asked him if he thought the atmosphere in space was the same as on earth and he just kind of shrugged. It was so dumb, so I told Murphy about it and he coined the nickname.”

“It is concerning that he thought that,” Clarke agrees with a laugh. 

“I should have known back then,” Raven sighs.

They end up talking about non-Finn related things and Clarke is surprised by how much she is starting to like Raven. It shouldn’t make sense, she realizes. But she finds the dark haired girl hilarious and relatable and for a moment forgets the circumstances of how they met. 

Raven finally decides that she has to go home and face him. Clarke offers to join her and thankfully Raven declines, noting that she needs to do this on her own. 

Clarke walks with her to the subway station and awkwardly wishes her good luck.

“Thanks, Clarke.” 

“Look, Raven, I know this is a crazy situation and not the ideal meet-cute, but if you ever need anything or just want to hang out, I’m here. ” Raven’s gaping at her and Clarke is equally as surprised at the offer she’s just made.

“This is weird,” Raven acknowledges, “and I feel like part of me should hate you, but…I’d like that. To be friends, I mean.” 

When Clarke returns to the apartment the entire gang is assembled. Octavia immediately sweeps her into a hug and repeats how sorry she is. 

Miller offers to frame Finn for possession and then arrest him. Jasper and Monty scheme about other ways to get back at him. Bellamy is silent and just continues giving Clarke sad looks.

“I’m fine,” she tells them. “I’m surprised and hurt, but…I’ll be fine.”

“Bellamy said his other girlfriend spent the night?” Monty asks.

“Raven,” Clarke says, “and yeah…we might be friends now.”

“What?” Octavia cries. “Clarke, you can’t be friends with the person your boyfriend was cheating on with you.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but we talked a lot and she could really use a friend right now.”

“You’re truly a saint, Clarke Griffin,” Octavia sighs.

…

For the next two days, Clarke ignores Finn’s phone calls, aware that she’ll probably have to see him on Monday at the hospital, but content to ignore her problems for the time being. 

After the adrenaline of Raven’s sudden appearance and the twelve hours that followed it passed, Clarke realizes just how devastated she actually is. She wasn’t in love with Finn, she knows that, but she had trusted him and let him into her life. How could he have turned out to be so horrible? How could she not have known?

She begins her private mourning process after everyone leaves with promises of their various forms of revenge on her behalf. 

Clarke hides in her room after dinner, crying and listening to angsty music that she has left over from her last break up. Was it really only a few months ago? 

Bellamy and Octavia give her space, probably relieved that she finally seems to be responding to everything in a more normal way.

After crying all night, Clarke plans to spend all of Sunday hiding out on the couch with ice cream and 500 Days of Summer. She’s halfway through a pint of mint chip when Bellamy appears in front of her, blocking the tv. 

“Do you mind?” Clarke asks.

“Get up, Clarke,” Bellamy says.

“You can watch a documentary later,” she whines.

“Come on,” Bellamy pulls her up and leads her to her room. 

“I really don't feel like doing anything,” Clarke protests weakly.

“Be ready in five minutes,” Bellamy says, lightly pushing her through the doorway. Before Clarke can decline any further, Bellamy has closed her door. 

Clarke inspects her leggings and t shirt, deciding that if she’s going to be forced out, she won’t give Bellamy the satisfaction of putting in any more effort. She puts on a pair of converse and pulls a sweatshirt over her shirt. 

When she emerges, Bellamy is waiting on the arm of the couch. 

She doesn't even ask where they’re going, just lets him lead her down the street, his hand in constant contact with the small of her back. 

She’s surprised when they stop at a street vender outside of the subway station. She watches in silence as Bellamy buys two pretzels and collects a handful of mustard packets.

“How did you-”

“Monty told me,” Bellamy says casually. Clarke tries not to think about the implications of Bellamy asking Monty how to cheer her up.

They slip into a tiny park and sit down on a bench. They eat their pretzels in silence, Clarke finishing hers first and then snagging a bite of Bellamy’s. When they’re done and Clarke is licking off the last mustard packet (Bellamy even resists commenting on how disgusting he finds it), Clarke does feel better. 

“Thanks,” she says quietly, staring out at the pond instead of meeting Bellamy’s eyes. She feels him shrug beside her, not saying anything. 

Clarke leans over to rest her head against Bellamy’s shoulder. They remain that way for what seems like hours before Clarke’s phone rings. She’s determined not to check it, but Bellamy takes it from her lap and frowns at the caller ID. 

“Throw it into the pond,” Clarke instructs him.

“Have you ever heard of blocking numbers,” he suggests instead. 

“I’m gonna see him tomorrow,” Clarke says, cursing the tears that well in her eyes at the thought.

“Good,” Bellamy says in a defiant voice, “let him see you. Let him realize what an idiot and an asshole he is.” 

“What do I even say? Obviously, it’s over but…God, Bellamy, what do I say?” 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

And she doesn’t. When Clarke does see Finn on Monday it’s because he’s tracked her down in the cafeteria. He looks terrible, Clarke is relieved to realize, like he hasn’t slept in three days. He opens his mouth to say something to her, but Clarke just narrows her eyes and shoves past him. She’s proud of this and even prouder later when she recounts the events and Bellamy gives her a fist bump. 

…

Raven is true to her word and contacts Clarke pretty soon after to recount her showdown with Finn at his apartment. Clarke is also true to her word and invites Raven to their weekly game night a few days after the Halloween incident.

The gang is confused by this, to say the least. 

“You invited Raven?” Monty asks. 

“Raven?” Octavia balks. “As in Finn’s longterm other girlfriend?”

“That’s the one,” Clarke nods. 

“You know you don’t have to feel guilty, Clarke,” Monty tells her. “Finn is an asshole, you had no idea.”

“It’s partly about feeling guilty,” Clarke acknowledges, “but I do like Raven. And I think you guys will too.”

“You are seriously the nicest person I’ve ever met,” Octavia says with a sigh. “Bellamy, please tell Clarke she’s crazy.” 

Both girls turn to Bellamy, awaiting his response.

“She seemed okay,” he shrugs, “Besides, the more people for mafia, the better.” 

Clarke sends him a grateful smile and when their eyes meet, Clarke feels something she hasn’t in a while.   
…

When game night rolls around, Clarke is rethinking her invitation to Raven. It would be weird, she realizes, how could it not be? 

But then Raven arrives and everyone is surprisingly chill and welcoming. Jasper has also brought his new girlfriend, Maya, so Raven isn’t the only newcomer. 

After two rounds of mafia and a few card games, everyone is in good spirits and moderately wine drunk.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Raven tells Clarke before she leaves. “You’re lucky to have friends like this.”

“You might rethink that when you come over for board game night, they can be kind of ruthless when it comes to Clue.” 

“You don’t have to keep inviting me over, Clarke,” Raven says. “I’m staying with my friend Kyle for a bit and I’m trying to patch things up with Murphy. I’ll be okay.”

“Does that mean we can’t be friends?” Clarke asks. Raven surprises her with a tight hug and a promise to do drinks and talk more later that week. 

It might be the most unconventional beginning to a friendship she’s ever had, but Clarke has a good feeling about Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been kind of a while, but I hope you've enjoyed this new chapter. I thought of a lot of ways to characterize Raven in these early days, so I hope you all don't find too much fault with her. Thanks for reading!


	8. The One With Turkey and Exes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Clarke's first Thanksgiving with the Ark crew and it brings unexpected encounters of all kinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo! Sorry for the delay, but here's a longer chapter to hopefully make up for it. As always, thanks for the support and enjoy!

The holiday season truly rolls around with the onset of Thanksgiving. Since her father’s death, Clarke and her mother hadn't been big on holidays. They got together for dinner and present exchanges for Christmas (with Wells and his father in the past), but Abby had spent the last few Thanksgivings going on trips with Marcus while Clarke went home with Wells.

After the recent drama with Finn, Abby offers to stay in town and actually do a Thanksgiving meal this year since she doesn’t want Clarke to be alone after undergoing her second traumatic breakup in six months.

Clarke waves her off, insisting that it is tradition for her and Marcus now and that she will be fine by herself in the city. Besides, she won't really be by herself because Octavia made her pinky promise she’d join the Ark crew’s festivities.

Clarke assumes that it will be a low-key venture, though she shouldn't be too surprised when, a week prior to Thanksgiving, Octavia calls an assembly in their apartment and hands out written assignments to everyone.

“Bellamy and Miller are on turkey duty, as always,” Octavia begins, handing both boys notecards with a cartoon turkey drawn on them. “Jasper and Monty are doing mashed potatoes and green beans at their apartment. We’ll also do the mulled wine there with your crockpot. Lincoln is in charge of desserts. I will be making my famous corn pudding and Clarke and I are on decorating and itinerary duty. Ooh, and we’ll also be making sure we are stocked on rolls and booze.”

“Rolls and booze?” Clarke questions.

“The hallmark of a successful Thanksgiving are the dinner rolls and the beer,” Octavia explains in a serious tone. The rest of the room hums in agreement. 

“Relax, princess, you basically have the easiest job,” Bellamy tells her. “I, on the other hand, have to cook a turkey.”

“You love doing the turkey,” Octavia points out.

“Be that as it may.” 

Clarke is internally a bit thrilled at the idea of having a homemade Thanksgiving meal for the first time in basically her entire life. Even as a child, the Griffins would attend banquets or go to the homes of senators or hospital officials where Clarke would eat catered turkey and make small talk with the few other children invited. 

Wells’ father, Thelonius Jaha, was one those senators and, although his Thanksgiving’s were smaller than the White House affairs, they were still tragically artificial. 

Clarke never noticed how much she minded, until she begins thinking back on them. The idea of Bellamy cooking a turkey is far more appealing to her than the most expensive catering money could buy. 

… 

The week leading up to Thanksgiving Brooklyn College is closed and Bellamy and Octavia are in the apartment almost as often as they had been during the summer. Clarke slowly gets re-used to Bellamy being there whenever she gets back from a shift, even in the middle of the day.

Clarke comes home Tuesday morning after a nightshift, planning to crawl into bed for the next few hours. What she doesn't plan on is Bellamy cooking in the kitchen, humming along to Tom Petty on the radio.

“Well this is different,” she notes, dropping her bag on the couch.

“You hungry?” Bellamy looks over his shoulder

“Starved,” she admits, taking in the sight of fried eggs and bacon on the griddle. 

“The coffee’s full and this should all be ready soon.”

“Have I walked into an alternate dimension?” Clarke asks as she pours herself a mug. 

“Huh?”

“I just never thought I’d see a day where Bellamy Blake was making me avocado toast,” she teases as she reaches for a piece.

“I guess its the holiday spirit,” Bellamy shrugs as he transfers the eggs to a plate. “Can you get Octavia up?”

“It’s nine AM and she’s on break,” Clarke laughs, “she’ll literally kill me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of my ninety-five pound sister,” Bellamy teases.

“I absolutely am,” Clarke counters, “remember when she threatened to bury me alive when I took the last piece of garlic bread the other night?”

“Come on, you know how she feels about garlic bread.”

“Nah ah, I don’t have a death wish.” Clarke plops herself at the table. Bellamy shakes his head and moves toward Octavia’s door. Before he can even knock, however, it opens and the younger woman practically bounces out.

“Oh, hi guys,” she chirps as she moves around the apartment, grabbing things and throwing them in the bag on her shoulder. 

“Um, are you going somewhere?” Bellamy asks.

“Lincoln and I have plans,” is all she says, grabbing a piece of toast off of the plate and pressing a kiss to Bellamy’s cheek. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

“Tomorrow?” Bellamy asks after the door slams shut.

“She’s young and free from the confines of school,” Clarke shrugs. 

“Are you gonna run out on me too?” Bellamy asks, dejectedly. Clarke thinks momentarily about her bed and how good it would feel to crawl under the covers for the next few hours, but Bellamy seems so disappointed by Octavia’s exit that she decides to humor him for a bit. 

“I’m actually off for the rest of the day,” Clarke says. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Well,” Bellamy, “I was going to ask if you and O wanted to check out the new exhibit at the Natural History Museum and then go to the winter market.”

“You thought Octavia would want to spend her break looking at an exhibit on oceans?” Clarke laughs.

“How did you know it was on oceans?” Bellamy asks, putting the rest of the food on the table and sitting down across from Clarke.

“I may have read that article you shared on Facebook,” Clarke says nonchalantly, munching on a piece of bacon.

“Interesting,” Bellamy muses with a hint of a smile. They eat in silence, Clarke chancing quick glances over at Bellamy as he drinks his coffee. 

“So does the offer still stand?” Clarke finally asks.

“Offer?” Bellamy asks, mouth full of eggs.

“Even without Octavia. Would you have me as your museum buddy?” Bellamy stares at her blankly for a moment, mouth half opens. 

“Yes,” he replies quickly, “of course. If you’re really up for it, I mean.”

“Could be fun,” Clarke says, reaching across to grab a piece of bacon off of Bellamy’s plate. 

…

As Bellamy and Clarke walk side by side through the Natural History Museum, Clarke tries not to think about how much this feels (and probably looks) like a date. 

Bellamy keeps whispering fun facts in her ear as he points things out. He even grabs her hand when he sees a line forming for the new exhibit entrance so that they can race to get a spot. They’re both out of breath when they skirt to a stop behind a family and Clarke can’t help but laugh at the idea of her running through a museum with Bellamy Blake to learn about oceans. 

Clarke honestly doesn’t even remember much from the exhibit when she thinks back on it later. Her memories are too overshadowed by images of Bellamy’s smile and how excited he seemed by everything. 

She remembers the intense look of concentration on his face at the market when he’s looking at scarves and trying to decide which one Octavia would like best. 

She remembers the crepe that he buys them and their long argument about whether to get sweet or savory (in the end, Clarke wins with sweet. “Princess always gets her way.”)

She remembers how packed the subway car is so that Bellamy is holding on to a bar from above and she is holding on to his torso, pressed between his chest and a stranger’s side. She remembers how he smells of deodorant and cinnamon gum. She hopes she smells half as good.

She remembers ordering takeout when they get home while Bellamy sets up for a Lord of Rings movie marathon. She remembers her feet in Bellamy’s lap and his warm hands resting easily on her calves.

They make it halfway through "Two Towers" before Clarke begins to nod off. Bellamy takes this as a sign to clear away the remnants of their take out containers and beers. 

“It’s only ten,” Clarke yawns. “I feel like such an old woman.”

“You were working all night and then let me drag you around the city all day,” Bellamy says. “I’d say you’ve earned an early bedtime.”

“I had a lot of fun today,” Clarke tells him, earning a shy smile. “Thanks for letting me be Octavia’s replacement.”

“You’re nobody’s replacement, Clarke,” Bellamy says in a suddenly serious tone. Clarke gulps at the shift in atmosphere and for 3.5 seconds is positive that Bellamy’s about to kiss her.

He doesn’t.

Bellamy turns to finish putting the cartons away and then bids Clarke a quick goodnight. 

Maybe it’s all in her head, Clarke thinks, but something is definitely changing.

…

Clarke works until early evening on Wednesday and as soon as she walks through the apartment, Octavia is ushering her and Bellamy back out on a last minute grocery run for tomorrow’s meal. 

Clarke barely convinces Octavia to let her change out of her scrubs before her and Bellamy venture to the supermarket a few blocks from the apartment. 

Clarke is happy to see that Bellamy’s demeanor has not shifted much since the previous day. He’s still uncharacteristically laid back and Clarke comments that the lack of stress looks good on him.

“Well after this break we’re basically into finals, so prepare yourself for the return of crotchety professor Bellamy.”

“Oh no,” Clarke jokes. Bellamy knocks their hips together, hiding his smile with a shake of his head. 

They’re in the beer aisle when the music in the store dramatically changes from playing whatever top hit pop song to upbeat jazz.

“Well that certainly changes the atmosphere,” Clarke muses, though her focus is more on whether she should be extra and get the fancy seasonal beer or just stick to PBR. 

“Reminds me of high school,” Bellamy says, which captures Clarke’s full attention.

“How exactly?”

“My mom signed me up to take dance lessons as a freshman,” Bellamy says. 

“Dance?” Clarke laughs. “What kind of dance?”

“Ballroom, salsa, tango…basically all of the possible partner ones.” 

“Dude, I need to see this someday,” Clarke laughs. Bellamy lets go of their cart and sticks out a hand to Clarke. 

“I didn’t mean now,” she says. Bellamy ignores her, however, and takes her hand anyway, spinning her into his chest. 

Clarke lets out a squeal of surprise at the movement, which only further encourages Bellamy. There’s no one else in the aisle, so Clarke doesn’t overly mind as Bellamy maneuvers them through. He’s surprisingly skilled and Clarke makes a mental note to use this whenever he makes fun of her “swanky upbringing.” 

Clarke doesn’t even realize they’ve made it out of the aisle and are now in an area where other shoppers are watching them. She forces him to stop moving after an elderly couple shoots them a look. 

“Ho oh my God,” Clarke squeals, punching Bellamy in the arm, “you’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Live a little,” Bellamy retorts, grabbing her hand to spin her around. Clarke is so dazed that she doesn’t notice she’s about to run into a display of canned peas. She barely hits them with her side before Bellamy pulls her back to him, but the cans are already falling to the floor. 

Clarke bursts into laughter.

“Shh,” Bellamy warns her, but he’s laughing too as he picks up the scattered cans.

“If they make us pay for these-” Clarke giggles as she bends down to help him.

“Clarke?” The voice draws Clarke from her laughter and Bellamy also quiets at the change of expression on her face. 

Clarke turns her head to the man standing beside them. 

“Wells.” She stands too quickly and nearly falls into him. Bellamy has apparently risen with her, as he is able to steady her, keeping a hand at the small of her back. Wells watches the interaction, eyes narrowing at Bellamy.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asks.

“Just getting some last minute essentials,” Wells motions to his nearly empty basket.

“Kind of a long way to come for cranberry sauce,” Clarke notes.

“Sorry, who’s this?” Wells looks Bellamy over, ignoring Clarke’s comment.

“This is Bellamy,” Clarke says, “my roommate.”

“Roommate?”

“Nice to meet you,” Bellamy sticks a hand out to Wells. Wells stares at the hand but doesn't return the grip. He turns back to Clarke, ignoring the man beside her. 

“I was actually just at the hospital,” he says in a quiet voice that Clarke recognizes from late nights long past.

“Is something wrong?” Clarke asks, genuine concern rising in her for the man she’s known for two decades. 

“I was looking for you,” he clarifies, “but they told me you were off till Saturday.”

“Why were you looking for me?” 

“I wanted to invite you to Thanksgiving,” he shrugs, “I know it might be weird but-”

“It’d definitely be weird.”

“I just know that the holidays are tough because of your dad and-”

“Don’t you dare talk about my dad,” Clarke’s voice is dark and she takes a step back, closer to Bellamy. 

Wells again ignores her. “And I know your mom’s going to Nassau, so-”

“How do you know what my mom’s doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Our parents are still friends, Clarke,” Wells says. 

“Well, thanks for the concern, but I have plans,” Clarke says. She turns to Bellamy, hoping he understands the look in her eyes.

“We should be getting back,” Bellamy says and Clarke breathes a sigh of relief.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Wells,” Clarke says, avoiding eye contact as she takes Bellamy’s arm to lead them back to their cart. 

They get the rest of Octavia’s items quickly and in silence. They manage to check out without seeing Wells again. Bellamy choicely waits until they’re out of the store to talk.

“What was that back there?” He asks once they’re walking home, laden with grocery bags and pulling Octavia’s cart behind them.

“You don't casually run into your exes at the supermarket?” Clarke asks.

“I’m serious,” Bellamy stops walking and turns to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke groans, “it just took me by surprise.” Bellamy studies her face for a moment and she prays she can maintain her poker face. Finally, he sighs and continues moving.

“He seemed nice,” Bellamy quips a few minutes later.

“Bell,” she groans.

“What? He did. He seems like a nice guy. Very….you.” This time it’s Clarke who stops short.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad,” Bellamy insists, “he was just so…upstanding seeming.”

“You don't know anything, Bellamy,” Clarke says in a low voice.

“Well excuse me, princess,” Bellamy snaps back. 

The rest of the walk is in silence. Dinner is much of the same. Octavia doesn’t say anything about the change in their demeanors until she and Clarke are doing the dishes. Bellamy has already retreated to his room, claiming he wanted to get a start on grading.

“Do I even want to know what happened between you and my brother this evening?”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks innocently.

“Well, when you guys left there were practically birds singing behind you and then you returned like two bridge trolls in a territory war.”

“That’s a very specific analogy.”

“I’m serious, Clarke,” Octavia puts down the plate she’s been holding and stares at her. “When I came home this morning Bellamy seemed happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“He did?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Spill, please.”

“We ran into Wells at the store.”

“The Wells who was basically your ex husband?” 

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my God, did Bellamy punch him? Did he punch Bellamy?”

“Nobody punched anyone,” Clarke asserts. “It just put me in a weird mood and I may have snapped at Bellamy.”

“Oh,” Octavia looks confused. “Is that all?”

“Well…basically, yeah.”

“You’re both infuriatingly stubborn, you know that right?” Clarke responds with a glare. “Just go talk to him,” Octavia coaxes.

Clarke knows Octavia is right, but Clarke is also stubborn so she waits another hour before seeking out the professor. 

Clarke spends several minutes outside of Bellamy’s door debating whether or not to knock.

“Yeah, O?” He responds through the door. He sounds tired. 

“It’s me, actually,” Clarke calls back. There’s silence and then: “Oh.”

“Can I come in?” There’s another bear of silence and then a soft, “sure.” 

Clarke pushes the door open before she talks herself out of it. Bellamy’s sitting up in bed, wearing grey joggers and a t shirt. His laptop is open beside him along with scattered papers.

“So you’re actually grading?” Clarke asks.

“Did you think I was just avoiding you?” He asks, looking down at the screen instead of her face.. Clarke takes a deep breath before walking towards his bed.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she says. “Seeing Wells was just a lot. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Bellamy finally meets her eyes and offers her a soft expression.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, pushing the papers away and patting his comforter. Clarke sits facing him, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

“The past few months, it’s been so easy not to think about him with everything else that has happened. Seeing him jus opened a lot of old wounds.”

Bellamy nods in understanding.“This may be a dumb question, but do you want to talk about it?”

Clarke thinks about the offer. It reminds her of the beach on the Fourth of July, when she so desperately wanted to tell Bellamy all kinds of things she wouldn’t normally want to tell someone she’s only known for a month and a half. 

She’s known Bellamy for half of a year now. He’s become one of her best friends. If she couldn’t tell him, who else could she?

“We were the perfect couple,” she begins, “childhood sweethearts and all of that. Our families have always known each other, we were kind of predestined to be together. We started officially dating our junior year of high school, right before my dad died.”

This information seems to surprise Bellamy and Clarke realizes she’s never told any of them about her father before.

“Clarke,” he reaches over to lay cover her hand that’s on one of her knees, “You never told me.”

“It isn’t really something I talk about,” she shrugs. “But anyway, after that I think I clung so tightly to Wells because I was so afraid of losing anyone else. We even went to college together and he chose a law program in D.C. so that we could still live together while I was at Johns Hopkins. We were really happy too, everything seemed so right for so long.”

“So what went wrong?” Bellamy asks. 

“He lied to me. About something really important. That was what ended it, but… after all that, I realized that our relationship wasn't as perfect as everyone thought it was. Wells had always been my best friend, but it was never really more than that. I loved him because I’ve always loved him, not because I was in love with him.”

“Why’d you stay with him for so long?”

“The security, I guess,” Clarke shrugs. “I just needed someone stable after my dad died, and my mom wasn’t.…well we were kind of in a bad place for a while.”

“You don’t need to explain everything to me,” Bellamy tells her.

“I know,” Clarke gives him a sad smile, “but I think I want to. I want you to know about me, Bellamy. And I want to know about you.” 

Clarke can’t be sure, but she thinks she can see Bellamy’s heart quicken and a look of realization briefly crosses his face. Bellamy’s still covering her hand with his and quickly pulls it away with a sheepish grin.

“Our mom died when Octavia was thirteen,” he tells her. “I was finishing my sophomore year at Columbia. I should have taken a break, gone home and taken care of her but…I had a full ride and I thought I knew that my mother would want me to finish so I…I, uh, I let Octavia live with a foster family for two years.”

Clarke's chest aches at how ashamed Bellamy looks admitting this to her.

“I knew that I could file for custody once I graduated, and that I’d have a better chance anyway with a college degree, but I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Clarke tells him. “I’m sure Octavia understood.”

“She does now, but back then she felt like I was leaving her too. I visited her every week and the family, the mason’s, were really good to her but…she was my responsibility. And I failed her.”

“You didn’t fail her,” Clarke says, moving closer to him to make him meet her gaze. “I’ve said it before, but you really are a great brother, Bell.”

“And you’re a pretty great roommate,” Bellamy counters, reaching to brush a strand of hair back from her forehead. Clarke lets herself lean into the touch until Octavia’s voice interrupts them.

“Are you guys making out in there or can we watch Charlie Brown now?” 

Bellamy’s face reddens and he moves himself back from Clarke, chuckling nervously. Clarke is also embarrassed by Octavia’s words, but more so by how much the concept of her and Bellamy making out doesn’t seem all that crazy.

She really needed to get her emotions in check. 

…

On Thanksgiving morning Clarke is awoken by Octavia jumping on her bed. 

“The parade's about to start,” she squeals, throwing her body on top of Clarke’s. Clarke groans, trying to hide her eyes from the light.

“What time is it?” She mumbles. 

“Almost nine, get up get up!” Clarke swats Octavia off of her and slowly extracts herself from her comforter. She follows the bouncy young woman into the main room and is surprised to find everyone else already there. 

Miller, Monty, Jasper, and Bellamy are also still in their pajamas, sitting around the television with a mixture of expressions. Jasper seems just as excited as Octavia for the parade to begin. Miller looks annoyed and Monty is basically asleep on his shoulder. Bellamy is in his armchair, sipping a mug of coffee and gives Clarke a sympathetic look.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says. Clarke glares at him, taking the mug from his hands and inhaling the scent. 

“Do you ever get used to her boundless energy?” She asks, sitting on the arm of his chair.

“No,” Bellamy says, getting up to pour himself another mug of coffee. 

Octavia shushes everyone as the commentators began speaking and the first balloons are brought into view. 

When the parade ends, everyone is sufficiently caffeinated and full of enough scrambled eggs and pastries to get them through the next few hours of preparation. 

Clarke calls her mother quickly to wish her and Kane a happy Thanksgiving and assure them that she’s having a good time in New York. She’s surprised when her mother asks her to wish Bellamy a happy holiday before she hangs up. 

She had mentioned Bellamy a few times to her mother, and obviously she knew she was living with him, but something about her tone makes Clarke wonder what her mother thinks the status of her and Bellamy’s relationship is. 

Miller and Bellamy begin the turkey and Clarke helps Octavia decorate the apartment. They carry the kitchen table over from the other apartment to attach to theirs, covering it with a long tablecloth to hide the mismatched patterns. When Octavia makes eight place settings, Clarke gives her a confused look.

“Jasper’s apparently bringing a date,” Octavia tells her.

Jasper’s date is a curly haired young woman named Maya who Clarke recognizes from the bar, Mount Weather, that the group occasionally frequents. She arrives with Monty and Jasper a little before five when they bring a crockpot full of mulled wine and side dishes. 

Lincoln shows up soon after with a stack of boxes and Clarke wonders if Lincoln is secretly a champion baker or if Octavia made exceptions for her “no store bought items!” rule. 

By the time everything is ready and set out on the table, Clarke thinks she might have to gnaw her arm off to stave off starvation. They’re all seated and Clarke is more than ready to grab a roll from the center of the table.

Before she can make her move, however, Octavia stands up ceremoniously.

“Some of you have been with us before,” she acknowledges, looking around the table, “and know of the Blake family tradition.”

“You do realize it’s kind of the tradition of every family in America, right?” Miller asks, earning a glare from Octavia.

“As I was saying, before we enjoy this delicious spread, I’d like us all to go around and say what we’re most thankful for this year. After each person, we drink to them.”

Clarke decides alcohol will have to tide her over. 

Octavia begins and they go around the table each saying something sappy that causes the others to roll their eyes but inwardly warms their hearts. 

When it gets to be Clarke’s turn, she freezes up for a minute. She supposes she has a lot to be thankful for, but she doesn’t quite know how to articulate it.

“Um, hi,” she says as she stands up. Everyone smiles at her fumble. Clarke takes a deep breath and bites her lip in concentration. “So the last few months have been kind of a shit show for me.” This arouses a few chuckles and raised glasses. “But, without certain events I wouldn’t have met all of you. So in a way, I’m thankful for that.” 

As everyone is cheersing, Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes and he raises his glass to her. 

Finally they are all allowed to begin eating and the next hour or so goes by in a blur of food and laughter. 

They take a break between dinner and dessert to play a round of football (or something of the sort since none of them really know how football works) in the park by the apartment building. 

It’s inconclusive which team wins (Monty, Clarke, Lincoln, and Jasper vs. Bellamy, Miller, Octavia, and Maya) so they all celebrate with pie and mulled wine just the same). 

The guys and Maya head back a little before midnight, sleepily buzzing from too much food and mulled wine. Clarke kisses them each on the cheek, wishing them a happy Thanksgiving as they go. Octavia falls asleep on the sofa, head on Lincoln’s lap and a half eaten piece of pie beside her. Clarke saves the plate before it can fall, winking at Lincoln. 

“Just like when we were kids,” Bellamy muses from his armchair. 

"A lightweight when it comes to turkey?” Clarke jokes.

“Something like that,” he smiles at Clarke fondly, something he’s been doing since their talk the day before. 

It tightens something in Clarke’s chest that she’s pretty sure shouldn't be tightening for Bellamy Blake. He’s her roommate and her friend, why would she risk that for some confusing feelings that are probably just a result of her past two failed relationships. 

Clarke goes to inspect what’s left of the mulled wine on the stove to distract herself from her feelings. 

“One last round?” She asks the guys.

“Why not?” Bellamy shrugs.

“Please,” Lincoln says in his smooth and deep voice. Clarke hands them both a mug before settling on the love seat.

The three speak in hushed tones for a bit, Clarke hiding her giggles in Bellamy’s shoulder to try not to wake Octavia. 

Eventually, their cups are empty again and the clock strikes 12:30.

“Probably time for bed,” Lincoln says. 

Lincoln carefully picks up Octavia and carries her into her bedroom. Clarke watches Bellamy’s expression as they disappear behind the door.

“That used to be my job,” he says when he notices her stare.

“I’m sure it’s hard for you,” Clarke says, “now that she’s all grown up.”

“She’s not that grown up,” Bellamy counters, “she can’t cook eggs and doesn’t properly separate her laundry.”

Clarke laughs.

“I guess I should be heading to bed too,” Clarke says. She clears the last mugs and heads toward her room.

“Clarke,” Bellamy calls softly from behind her. Clarke turns to find that he’s standing inches away, a desperate expression on his face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“I, uh, I just wanted to…”he takes a deep breath and settles his expression, “I wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Oh. Yeah. You too,” Clarke says, hoping her disappointment isn’t too obvious. 

Bellamy leans down suddenly, his face hover by hers for a long moment and Clarke feels all the oxygen leave her body. He presses a long kiss to her cheek, allowing his forehead to lean against her for another moment. When he pulls back, Clarke feels dazed.

He heads to his room without saying anything else and Clarke’s too hazy to do anything about it in the moment.

I’m so fucked, she thinks.


	9. The One with Bellamy's Fan Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke discovers Bellamy's student following

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! More substantial plot is soon to come!

It’s Clarke’s first full day off in the two weeks since Thanksgiving and she plans on spending the first few hours of it laying in bed watching Netflix. That is until her phone rings halfway through “The Holiday.” She continues ignoring it until she sees who it is. 

Bellamy never calls her. A brief flicker of panic pulses though her before she answers. What if something’s wrong with Octavia? What if something’s wrong with him? 

“Bellamy?”

“Hey,” the calm tone of his voice eases Clarke’s panic. “You’re home right?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Look, I know its your day off and you’re probably in bed watching chick flicks or something, but I have a huge favor to ask.” Clarke looks around, wondering if he’s implanted cameras in her room or if she’s just that predictable.

“How huge?”

“I left a folder on my desk of papers that need to be logged in by this afternoon. I’d run back and get them myself but I have a class.” 

“What’s it look like?” Clarke sighs, throwing off her comforter.

“It’s black with a leather strap around it,” he tells her. 

“Ok, I should be there in half an hour.”

“You’re an angel,” Bellamy sighs over the phone and Clarke goes rigid. She still isn’t used to him saying such casually affectionate thing, though its something he’s been doing with increasing frequency. She wishes she could see his face, read the expression and figure out what’s going on in his stubborn mind.

“See you soon,” Clarke stammers, hanging up before he can reply. 

…

As she walks through the social sciences building forty-five minutes later (she won’t admit how long it took her to decide on an outfit), Clarke feels a slight longing for her undergraduate days. Everything seemed so simple back then. She sees a couple holding hands as they leave a classroom and her mind flashes back to her and Wells. 

They were that annoying couple that came to college together and spent more time with each other than anyone else. Clarke remembers how sure her twenty year old self was that her and Wells would get married and move out to a house on Long Island to raise their kids. 

When she finally finds Bellamy’s office the door is closed, but she can see him through the glass pane running alongside it. He’s looking down at something on his desk, his face scrunched in frustration. She allows herself a moment to admire him from outside.

He looks very professorial in his glasses and vest. And also very hot. Those poor students, Clarke thinks. 

She forces herself to stop before her mind wanders to any student-teacher fantasy it can summon. Damn Octavia and those Hallmark movies. 

“Professor Blake?” She raps on the door as she pushes it open. He looks up from his work, a goofy smile on his previously tight face.

“Hey,” he stands to meet her in the center of his small office. As she hands him the folder he lets his hand rest over hers for longer than is probably necessary.

“You’re a life saver,” he says and her heart clenches at the earnestness of his voice. It’s something she’s noticed recently about Bellamy, that he’s one of the most genuine people she’s ever met.

“Not like I had anything better to do,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Bellamy offers.

“Don’t you have things to do?” 

“It’ll only take me a minute to put these in and then I’m free till one,” he’s already moving back to his desk and punching things into his computer. Clarke bites her lip as she looks between Bellamy and the door.

“Unless you have somewhere to be,” Bellamy says and Clarke turns fully to him. 

“Sorry,” she blushes, “I just haven't been on a college campus in a while.” 

“You want a tour, princess?” 

“How about we start with that coffee you promised me.” Bellamy nods enthusiastically as he finishes up. 

Clarke looks over the bookshelf, smiling knowingly at the volumes of ancient Mediterranean history interspersed with modern fiction and even a few graphic novels. 

There’s a framed picture of Bellamy and Octavia at what looks to be her high school graduation. The pride on Bellamy’s face is evident as he beams at the camera. 

There’s another picture of the Ark gang (pre-Clarke) sitting in their area at Drop Ship. 

She’s most surprised to find a picture of herself, clad in her Helen of Troy costume beside Bellamy, one arm slung over her shoulders, the other raised triumphantly towards the ceiling. She recognizes it as the moment they won the costume contest.

“Where did you get this?” She picks up the frame and flashes it towards Bellamy. He looks confused for a moment and then almost embarrassed.

“Oh. Uh, Pike actually gave it to me a little after Halloween. He wanted to commemorate me finally beating out Cage. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?” Clarke asks nonchalantly as she puts the picture back.

Internally, the lyrics of that one Taylor Swift Song are running through her mind. (“and he’s got a picture of you in his office downtown”). 

Before Clarke can continue to overanalyze things, Bellamy finishes and grabs his coat. He shrugs it on as he motions for Clarke to step out of the office.

“Hope I didn’t tear you away from anything too exciting,” he says as he guides her through the hall.

“Apparently I’ve gotten very predictable because I was indeed watching Netflix when you called.”

“Maybe I’m just good at reading you,” Bellamy jokes, but Clarke’s head spins by how true of a statement that is. 

They step out into the early December air and Clarke pulls her coat tighter around herself. Bellamy notices her chill and slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her lightly to his side. 

She’s surprised by the ease of the motion and how natural it seems. Clarke hesitates a moment, before moving her own arm to wrap around his waist. She does feel warmer, and she reasons to herself that that’s why she never wants to let go.

“How were your morning classes?” She asks, attempting to keep her voice neutral.

“Fine,” he says with a rough sigh. Clarke pokes his rib with her finger.

“Spill.”

“Well… there’s this one kid in my Rise of The Empire seminar who’s obviously like a genius, but also such an arrogant asshole that I want to wring his neck after every class.”

“Does he correct you?” She asks.

“Well, no, he just always answers everything before the other kids have a chance and kind of makes fun of them if they don’t know the answer or explain things differently than he would.”

“Why do I get the sense that you were once that kid?” Clarke teases. Bellamy shoots her an unamused look. 

“I wasn’t that bad,” he huffs. Before Clarke knows it, they’re walking into what she assumes is the student center. Bellamy removes his arm from around her shoulders and instead takes her hand as he leads her to a small cafe. 

Clarke notices that a few of the students are giving them looks as they pass and she wonders if it’s because of Bellamy or her. 

Bellamy doesn’t even ask what Clarke wants before he orders a flat white and a latte. Clarke is watching in amusement the way the student barista seems so flustered by Bellamy’s presence that she doesn’t notice someone is calling her name. 

Clarke looks back suddenly to find Raven and a blonde man walking towards her. In the month since their unorthodox meeting, Clarke and Raven had developed a fairly consistent texting friendship, meeting up a few times for coffee or drinks. 

Clarke was surprised to learn that Raven was in a graduate program at Brooklyn (the reason she and Octavia had been at the same Halloween party) and that neither Bellamy nor Octavia had ever seen her before. 

To be fair, she’s in the engineering department, which both Blakes tend to steer clear off. They do find out that Bellamy’s friend, Sinclair, is Raven’s advisor and that he thinks incredibly highly of her. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Raven says, wrapping Clarke in a quick hug.

“Raven,” Clarke smiles. “Sometimes I forget that you’re technically a student here.”

“Graduate student,” Raven says loudly, scanning the room. “Graduate.” 

“Who’s this?” Bellamy asks, motioning to the scruffy but cute man beside Raven.

“Oh, this is Kyle Wick, he’s essentially my roommate since I’ve been crashing on his couch for so long.”

“I thought you went apartment hunting last week,” Clarke says.

“We did,” Raven says, “and there are a few contenders in the running.” 

“Or you could just start chipping in for rent and I can actually turn the office into another bedroom,” Wick says. Raven shoots him a glare but Clarke can tell that its lighthearted.

“Anyway, we were just finishing a quick lunch and now have to head back to working on our final,” Raven groans.

“Well when you turn it in, text me so we can go out to celebrate,” Clarke says.

“Oh my God, please! Will you be joining, Bellamy?” Raven asks with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“I don’t make it a habit to drink with students,” Bellamy says. 

“Good thing we aren’t your students,” Raven says as she wraps a hand around Wick’s arm before walking off with a wink in Clarke’s direction.

“She’s growing on me,” Bellamy admits as he and Clarke head out of the student center. “Very slowly, but I think she’s growing on me.” 

Bellamy gives Clarke a condensed tour of the main parts of campus as they sip their coffee and scurry through the cold to various buildings. 

As they pass the art studios, Bellamy doesn’t seem too interested in stopping, but Clarke tugs him towards them. 

“I didn’t know you were such an art enthusiast,” Bellamy remarks.

“I love painting,” Clarke tells him.

“Really?” Bellamy seems surprised. “I’ve never seen you paint.”

“I, uh, haven’t in a while,” Clarke studies a wall of students’ works to distract herself. As per usual, however, Bellamy persists.

“Why not?”

“Painting was something my dad always encouraged me to do, after he died it just never felt the same. I still do occasionally, but…I don’t know.”

“I get it,” Bellamy says softly. “But I’d like to see your work sometime.”

“Sometime,” Clarke promises.

…

They finally make it back to Bellamy’s office, though he had offered to walk Clarke to the subway station. Clarke makes some comment about asserting her female independence and insists on walking him back to his office instead. 

The two stand in his doorway awkwardly, seemingly neither knowing where to go from there.

“Thanks again,” Bellamy says. “I’m sure you didn’t plan on spending your day off at school.” 

“Eh, gave me something to do,” Clarke says.

“I’ll see you later,” Bellamy says, then leans down to press a soft kiss to Clarke’s cheek. It’s brief, Bellamy pulling back just as quickly as his lips came into contact with her skin. It feels so familiar to Clarke that it makes her chest ache. 

There’s no hint on his face that the action was unordinary, as if he had always been kissing her goodbye. Clarke feels her neck blush and is ready to stutter something out when a voice interrupts them.

“Professor Blake?” It’s a tall, light haired girl holding a laptop to her chest. 

“Roma,” Bellamy straightens, taking a step back from Clarke. 

“Am I early?” She asks, eyeing the two with a strange expression on her face.

“No,” he stutters before regaining his composure, “come on in.”

“See you at home,” Clarke says softly. Bellamy nods to Clarke as he ushers his student into his office.   
…

A few nights later Clarke returns to find the entire gang in her apartment. Monty, Jasper, Miller, and Octavia are huddled around a laptop at the table, barely acknowledging Clarke’s arrival. 

“What’s going on?” She shrugs out of her coat and approaches the scene.

“I have stumbled upon what is possibly the greatest thing to ever exist,” Jasper proudly boasts.

“Do tell,” Clarke moves behind him so she can see the screen.

“There’s this twitter account @studsofBrookColl and its essentially just a shrine to Bellamy,” Octavia explains.

“No shit.” Clarke laughs. 

“You gotta read some of these,” Jasper says: “Blake is literally hotter than Indiana Jones and no professor is hotter than Indiana Jones.”

“I switched majors to history just to bask in Blake’s presence,” Miller narrates the next one.

“Wait,” Clarke puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder, “scroll back up.” 

There’s a pinned tweet from @RomaBragg: FML Blake has a girlfriend?!? And she’s blonde and beautiful?!?

“What?” Octavia laughs. “When is that even from?”

“Three days ago,” Jasper says. “There’s more too.” 

@RomaBragg: They live together. Life is over. Fantasies have been crushed. #BlakesBaes

@Kingly97: Spotted Blake and a blonde hottie canoodling in his office between classes. Jealous but also shipping it. 

@studsofBrookColl: sorry ladies it seems Prof Blake is a taken man, but we can always fantasize about him.

“I’m so confused,” Octavia says, “Bellamy has a secret blonde girlfriend?”

“Impossible,” Miller says, “he would have told me.”

“Well apparently he’s canoodling with attractive women in his office nowadays,” Octavia huffs.

“Oh my God,” Clarke groans when the realization hits her. “It’s me.”

“What’s you?” Monty asks, still scrolling through the feed.

“I’m Bellamy’s girlfriend.”

“What?” Octavia practically screams.

“Obviously I’m not actually Bellamy’s girlfriend,” Clarke rolls her eyes, “but I am the blonde they think he’s dating.”

“Explain,” Octavia demands.

“The other day I dropped a folder off for him and I guess some students saw us,” she shrugs.

“Well why would they think you're dating?” Jasper asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

“I have no idea, I mean he did sort of…”

“Sort of what??” Octavia jumps up from her seat to stare Clarke down. 

“He bought me coffee and we walked around a bit and then he kind of…”

“Kind of??”

“Kissed me goodbye.” Octavia and Jasper both shriek at the development.

“I cannot believe you kissed my brother and neither of you told me!”

“It was a peck on the cheek!” Clarke clarifies

“No wonder he’s been so giddy the last few days.”

“He has not been giddy,” Clarke argues.

“By Bellamy standards, he kind of has,” Miller agrees.

“Oh my God,” Clarke groans, wapping Miller on the arm. “Where is he anyway?”

“Study session,” Octavia hums. “Though you’d think his girlfriend would know that.” 

Clarke ignores her and compasses a quick text to Bellamy:

Clarke Griffin: Just a heads up, your students are way too invested in your personal life

Bellamy Blake: ???

Clarke attaches the link to the twitter page and pictures Bellamy’s reaction. Mostly embarrassment, probably, with a hint of amusement. 

Bellamy Blake: First of all, what college aged kid uses the term ‘canoodling’? Second, I had a chat with them about overstepping bounds.

A few minutes later another text comes through.

Bellamy Blake: There are candid pictures of me on here! When did they take these?? Where did they take these??

Clarke laughs at this and the group gives her an array of teasing looks. Clarke ignores them. 

…

Raven cashes in on Clarke’s offer to go out after her and Wick turn in their final project. She also remembers to insist that Bellamy come too.

“I’ve already invited Wick and it would be weird if it was just the three of us cause he’d feel like a third wheel,” Raven reasons. “If Bellamy comes it could be like a double roommate date!” 

Oddly enough, Clarke does see her point and so asks Bellamy if he’d be overly opposed to grabbing drinks with Raven and Wick Friday night. 

Surprisingly, he agrees without much resistance. 

“It’ll give me an excuse to take a break from grading term papers,” Bellamy tells Clarke, who was expecting an immediate “no” and now isn’t sure how to respond.

“Oh,” she says. Bellamy’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Did you want me to say no?”

“No! No, I want you to come. I just didn’t expect such amenability from you during finals.” 

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

…

They arrive at Mount Weather before Raven and chat with Maya for a bit at the bar. Clarke had decided that there was something slightly weird about Maya at Thanksgiving, but overall she likes the girl.

Bellamy joked that it was because Maya was literally the palest person either of them had ever seen and he half-suspected that she hadn’t experienced any form of sunlight for the first twenty years of her life. 

Since in the dark glow of the bar, Maya’s sickly paleness is less noticeable, Clarke mentally agrees with Bellamy that that could have partly been it. 

Raven and Wick finally arrive and a round of beer is ordered as they claim a booth. 

Raven explains in unnecessary detail about their final engineering project (which is Bellamy’s fault for asking how it went). They’re already a couple of drinks in by the time Bellamy starts recounting some of the most “bull-shitty” things his students have done this past semester. 

Clarke likes Wick, she realizes, when she watches him interact with Raven. He’s calm but witty and charming in a way and their bickering reminds Clarke of Bellamy and herself. 

It’s still too soon after the whole Finn thing for her to suggest anything, but she considers teasing Raven about it the next time they’re alone. 

Raven suggests karaoke when they’re all sufficiently buzzed enough not to feel self-conscious. 

They start with a group rendition of “Losing My Religion” and then Raven ropes Clarke into doing a duet of “Sweet Escape” with her. Clarke nearly trips off the stage at one point, but thankfully Bellamy and Wick are standing in the front and Bellamy easily catches her and sets her back. 

Afterwards, her and Raven are checking their appearances in the bathroom and making tipsy small talk when a group of women enter.

“Hi!” One of them says enthusiastically when she sees Clarke and Raven.

“Um, hi?” Raven responds.

“You guys were great up there,” another tells them. “It was so cute when your boyfriend caught you off the stage!”

Raven laughs. “Bellamy isn’t her boyfriend.” For some reason, this statement annoys Clarke. Who was Raven to tell people who Bellamy was or wasn’t to her?

“Is he single?” Another asks, probably jokingly, but Clarke glares at her anyway. “No,” she says, taking Raven’s hand and pulling her out of the bathroom.

“Whoa, possessive much?” Raven jokes. Clarke doesn’t respond as she maneuvers them through the crowd. Raven stops her and turns Clarke to face her.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Raven says. “But, you and Bellamy aren’t…together, right?” 

They weren’t. Clarke knows this. Raven must also know, however, that things are more complicated than that because she nods understandingly and wraps an arm around Clarke’s shoulders as they continue walking.

“Just make sure he’s good enough, okay?” She says quietly before they reach the boys. 

Clarke slides back in beside Bellamy, who gives her a warm smile.

“I honestly don’t get why you guys can’t pee alone,” Wick says. 

“To gossip about boys,” Raven says, stealing his beer. Clarke suddenly feels very self-conscious of the proximity between her and Bellamy and wonders if he can see her cheeks reddening. 

If so, he doesn’t say anything and fills her in and the conversation he and Wick were having about hockey during their absence. 

...

The next evening, Octavia triumphantly hands her phone to Clarke to display the @StudsofBrookColl page. 

@Atom3367: "Apparently Blake double-dates with students. Wonder if he's free next Thursday?" Attached is a semi-blurry picture of the four of them on the karaoke stage from Friday night. 

Embarrassment immediately flares up in Clarke, as well as concern by how intense Bellamy's following really seems to be. 

"These are your classmates, O, shouldn't you be more weirded out by this?" Clarke asks. 

"Are you kidding me?" Octavia laughs. "This is one of the few things I actually like about college."


	10. The One With a (Sort of) First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy spend Christmas in an unexpected ways and feelings are incredibly confused by the time New Years Eve rolls around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo! Thanks for all the love for the last chapter, I'm so appreciative of everyone's support for this story. Enjoy!

Octavia informs them less than a week before Christmas that she’s decided to go home with Lincoln to meet his family in Pennsylvania. Clarke actually thinks Bellamy handles the news fairly well, all things considered. 

There’s minor argument and some guilt tripping, but in the end Octavia’s plans are finalized and Bellamy is left to mope silently.

Unlike Thanksgiving, the rest of the gang are all going their respective ways for Christmas and seemingly no one else will even be in the city except for Clarke. 

Clarke tries to think very analytically about what to do in this situation. The Blakes had offered her somewhere to be so many times in the past few months. For once, she has something she can offer Bellamy. 

She isn’t even sure he’d go for spending Christmas with her mother and Kane, but she knows he’ll at least appreciate the suggestion. 

She brings it up two nights after Octavia makes her announcement, when the younger girl is in her room packing. 

Bellamy is watching some forensic files show and halfheartedly sipping on a beer. 

“Hey,” Clarke greets him cautiously as she sits down beside him on the couch.

“Hey,” he repeats, eyes glued to the screen. Clarke turns her body to face him, waiting for him to get the hint and follow suit. When he finally notices her position, he puts his beer on the coffee table and cocks his head to the side. 

“Yes?” He asks. 

“I have a proposition for you.” 

“Oh do you?” 

Clarke suddenly feels a rush of apprehension with Bellamy staring at her expectantly. 

“If, uh, if you wanted to- and obviously, no pressure- but you could spend Christmas with me. And by me I mean me and my mother and Kane.” 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Looking at Clarke with a strange expression on his face.

“Like I said, no pressure, just if you didn’t want to be alone…” she stops talking when she realizes she’s digging herself into a deeper hole.

“No,” Bellamy finally says and Clarke tries to hide the disappointment from her face.

“Right, yeah, that’s totally fine. It was a weird idea,” she says quickly as she stands up, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. 

Bellamy catches her wrist and pulls himself up to face her.

“I meant, no I don’t want to be alone,” he says hurriedly. “I’d love to come with you to your mom’s. If you don’t think it’d be weird, that is.”

“It wouldn’t,” Clarke promises. “I actually haven’t been to a Christmas alone in years anyway. Might be weirder if I didn’t bring someone.” Clarke realizes that Bellamy knows she’s talking about Wells and quickly tries to explain herself: “not that this is the same as when I had a longterm serious boyfriend. My mom definitely knows you aren’t my-”

“Clarke.” Bellamy says her name so calmly that it halts her ramble. 

“So I’ll tell her to set another place?”

Bellamy nods and gives Clarke a smile that conveys silent gratitude. 

…

On Christmas Eve, Clarke has to work until the mid-afternoon. She doesn’t really mind, enjoying how cheery everyone in the hospital is because of the holiday spirit. There are Santas in nearly every ward and decorations that almost make one forget where they are. 

Clarke’s in a good mood as she packs up to head home. Her last surgery had been surprisingly successful and one of her patients was discharged just in time to spend Christmas with his family. She also has a stack of Christmas cards in her bag, along with a tin of cookies made by one of the nurses. 

Her holiday high comes to a dramatic end when she runs into Finn just before reaching the doors. He seems equally as startled by her, so Clarke can’t even mentally accuse him of planning the run-in.

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” Clarke repeats, accepting that this is a thing she’s doing.

“Um, Merry Christmas?” 

“Same to you,” Clarke maneuvers past him, but Finn calls out to her. Against her better judgment, Clarke stops and turns to him.

“I’m really sorry, Clarke,” he says in a quiet voice. “I never wanted to hurt you or Raven, I just… I’m sorry.” 

Clarke sucks in a ragged breath and nods, unsure of how to respond verbally before continuing towards the door.

The whole interaction puts her in a weird mood for the commute home. It also doesn’t help that the subways and streets are packed full of last minute shoppers and travelers. 

When she finally arrives back at the apartment, she’s almost forgotten that it’s Christmas Eve and that her and Bellamy are supposed to be leaving for her mother’s in a few hours. 

Bellamy obviously hasn’t forgotten. As soon as she pushes open the door, he rushes to her looking like a caged-in dog.

“Hey,” he says breathily, “you’re back!”

“Indeed I am,” Clarke says, not meaning to sound as irritated as she does. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asks, picking up on her mood. Clarke hesitates, she’s already burdened Bellamy with so much about Finn, and this incident is basically meaningless. She also can’t lie to him, though, and if she says nothing’s wrong, he’ll only press her. 

“I’m fine,” she says, “just had an unexpected run in with someone.” Bellamy either knows who she’s talking about or pretends to because he nods in understanding and offers her a comforting smile.

“You still want to go to your mom’s place tonight?” 

Clarke nods quickly, for once relishing the distraction her mother can provide. She’s also had this feeling of childlike giddiness at the knowledge that Bellamy is coming “home” with her for the next few days. 

….

As they stand outside of Kane and Abby’s place in Park Slope, a sudden fear grips Clarke. What if Abby hated Bellamy? What if Bellamy hated Abby? What if this all went horribly awry and ruined her and Bellamy’s friendship? 

At her side, Bellamy seems surprisingly at ease on the stoop. 

Clarke’s relieved when Kane opens the door for them. She isn’t ready for her mother yet. 

“Clarke!” He wraps her in a tight hug. “Considering we live in the same city, you certainly could stop by more often.”

“I know,” Clarke agrees. Kane lets go of her and seems to notice Bellamy for the first time. Clarke nearly bursts into laughter at the expression on Bellamy’s face when Kane’s eyes fall to him. 

“Good to see you again, sir,” Bellamy sticks out a hand as if he were in a job interview.

“Bellamy,” Kane returns the handshake, before pulling Bellamy into a brief hug, clapping him on the back. “Glad you’re joining us.” 

Kane grabs Clarke’s bag and holds the door open for them. As they step into the spacious foyer, Clarke notices Bellamy looking around with a mixture of awe and confusion on his face. Clarke fears he’s going to make a comment about their wealth. If he is, it’s delayed by the arrival of Abby Griffin coming down the stairs. 

With trademark grace, Abby descends the final steps and opens her arms invitingly to Clarke. 

The last time Clarke had seen her mother was in early November, right after her “breakup” with Finn. Their relationship had, unsurprisingly, gotten better after Clarke moved in with the Blakes. Despite her initial reservations about the arrangements, Abby seemed to finally accept Clarke’s decision. Perhaps six months without either roommate turning out to be a serial killer was enough to put her mind at ease.

“Merry Christmas, mom,” Clarke breathes as she hugs Abby. 

“It’s good to have you home,” Abby says. “Er- I mean here, with us.” When they pull away Clarke expects Bellamy to do his trademark meet-the-parents handshake again. He remains silent, however. Abby also only stares at him expectantly.

It dawns on Clarke that maybe she’s supposed to introduce him. 

“Mom, this is my roommate, Bellamy,” Clarke motions between the two which seems to give Bellamy the courage to step closer.

“Thank you for having me,” Bellamy stutters with a cordial nod.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Abby says, “it’s nice to know Clarke has such good friends these days.” Something about the way Abby says “friends” makes Clarke think she’s going to need to have a conversation with her mother soon.

Bellamy points out the painting above the fireplace in the living room and Clarke freezes. 

“That’s beautiful,” Bellamy tells her mother, “who’s it by?” It’s a semi-abstract oil painting of a scene in Cinque Terra that Clarke painted in college while studying abroad in Italy. She was honestly surprised when her mother and Kane had it hung up so publicly in their place, not thinking it particularly good.

“That, my dear,” Abby chuckles, “is a Clarke Griffin original.”

Bellamy whips his head to stare at Clarke with wide eyes. 

“Ok, you said painting was a hobby, not that you were fucking Picasso,” Bellamy whispers in her ear as they’re climbing the stairs. 

Abby shows Bellamy and Clarke to two of the guest rooms in the upstairs apartment. It’s where Clarke stayed after moving out of Wells’ place, but she’s surprised that her mother would put both her and Bellamy up here. 

In the past, her and Wells would stay in the guest bedroom on the main level, closer to Abby and Kane (she always suspected to discourage them from doing anything too loudly). 

“So can we talk about the fact that your mom literally has like three apartments in one?” Bellamy asks after the adults leave them to settle in.

“They usually rent this one out, but they haven’t had a tenant since last winter,” Clarke explains.

“Why didn’t you just stay here then?” Bellamy asks. It’s a valid question, but it makes something inside Clarke twist. Something in her expression must alert Bellamy to her feelings because he quickly adds: “not that I’m not happy you found us.” 

“I’m grateful that I had somewhere to go,” Clarke tells him, “but I knew I couldn’t stay here for long. I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but we’re better at a distance.” 

After she says this, Clarke feels a wave of guilt. Who was she to complain about her mother when Bellamy hadn’t had any family to take care of him since he was nineteen? 

Thankfully, Bellamy doesn’t seem fazed by this and only nods in understanding. 

That night, as per tradition, they eat takeout Chinese food in front of the television and watch “Miracle on 34th Street.” 

Bellamy and Kane are getting along almost too well, Clarke and Abby begin exchanging looks every time one laughs at the other’s jokes or find a new thing they have in common. 

After Kane and Abby bid them goodnight, Clarke feels a nervous surge as her and Bellamy walk upstairs together. She can’t rationalize it. Somehow, being here in her parents’ house with Bellamy, Clarke feels like a teenager sneaking a boy up to her room. 

Bellamy, unsurprisingly, walks Clarke to her door and wishes her a good night. 

….

When Clarke wakes up and realizes it’s Christmas morning, she feels a surge of childlike excitement. It’s just after eight AM and although she’s sure her mother is awake, she probably isn’t expecting her and Bellamy until later. 

Regardless, Clarke knows she won’t be able to go back to sleep so she takes a hot shower and changes into another pair of pajamas (with reindeer on them because, why not?). Clarke is surprised to find Bellamy’s door slightly ajar and on further inspection, no sign of him in it. 

As she nears the main landing, she can hear the hum of Christmas tunes on a radio and indistinct chatter. The noises grow louder as she nears the kitchen and arrives to find Abby, Kane, and Bellamy sitting around the kitchen table talking. They’re all still in their pajamas, Abby with a silk robe over what is undoubtedly a silk sleep set.

“There she is,” Kane exclaims upon noticing Clarke. He drops a light kiss on her head before leading her to a chair. “I can finally finish my famous Christmas French toast.”

“Remind me who declared it famous again?” Abby asks, winking at Clarke. 

After breakfast, Abby declares it to be time for presents and Clarke again feels worried about Bellamy’s place in all this. She had gotten him something, but overall, she knows it will be weird for him to watch the three of them. 

There isn’t that much under the tree, a testament to all of their ages. Abby passes out a present to everyone and it’s mostly the usual of clothing and jewelry (cufflinks in Kane’s case).

When Abby hands Bellamy a present, Clarke at first thinks it’s one of hers, but is surprised when the wrapping paper is the same as her mother’s. 

Bellamy unwraps it to find, what appears to Clarke to be a pretty beaten up book. The way that Bellamy is staring at it must mean that it’s more than that, however.

“Where did you-” he looks at Clarke but she shakes her head and motions to her mother.

“Clarke said you were a classical history professor, so I thought that would find a better home with you,” Abby explains casually.

“What is it, Bell?” Clarke asks, scooting closer to inspect the book.

“It’s a first edition of the Aeneid- translated, obviously-but these are pretty rare,” Bellamy is still running his fingers over the book, gingerly with an incredulous look on his face.

Great, Clarke thinks, my mother got Bellamy a better Christmas present than I did.

Bellamy finally puts down the book with great caution and moves to grab a bag from under the tree which he hands to Abby.

“This doesn’t at all compare, but…” 

Abby pulls out the bottom of wine, beaming at it as if it were keys to a new Mercedes.

“Thank you, Bellamy.”

Bellamy reaches under the tree again and pulls out a box wrapped in newspapers to hand to Clarke. Clarke feels a swell of affection as she takes in the wrapping job and the nervous look on Bellamy’s face. 

Her breath briefly catches when she uncovers the carefully tied together oil paints, colored pencils, and sketchbook. 

“I know it isn’t much, but-” before Bellamy can negate his gift, Clarke launches herself into his arms. 

“It’s great,” she assures him against his cheek. When she pulls away, she’s a little embarrassed by the realization that her mother and Kane are watching them. 

Clarke stands up to pull a large box towards Bellamy and he blinks at her in confusion.

“This is for me?” He asks. She nods encouragingly and he slowly begins unwrapping the paper. He still seems confused as he pulls out the heavy case.

“You got me a…very heavy luggage set?” Bellamy laughs. Clarke rolls her eyes and unlatches the case for him. She can’t help but feel proud of herself when she sees Bellamy’s eyes widen when he realizes what it is. 

He runs his hands over the keys of the typewriter gingerly before turning back to her.

“Clarke, this is too,” he sputters, “I can’t accept this.”

“It’s really not much,” Clarke tries to explain, “someone at the hospital was gonna throw it out so I offered to take it and try and get it fixed. Turns out in runs like new now.” 

Bellamy still seems hesitant.

“If you’re gonna be a real writer someday, you’ll need to look like one.” 

Bellamy’s sudden smile caused Clarke’s breath to catch. 

“Thank you,” he says. “This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me. Well, besides your mother.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as she returns Bellamy’s smile. Squeezing his hand before scooting back to her original position. 

“Not sure how I’ll lug this back on the subway,” Bellamy jokes, closing up the case. “How did you even get this here?”

“I brought it over a few days ago,” Clarke admits, “would have been kind of hard to hide in our apartment.” 

That night, after everyone has gone to sleep filled with Christmas ham and too many desserts, Clarke settles herself onto the couch in the living room. She told Kane to let the fire go as she’d turn it off later. 

She flips to the first blank page of the sketchbook and only hesitates a moment before she starts sketching. For the past few months, she hadn’t felt calm enough to draw or paint, even though it had once been a release for her. 

As the image of a curly haired and freckle facd man emerge on the page, she feels at peace again. 

…

The New Years Eve party was supposed to be held in the guys’ place. They’d decided two weeks prior that it would be inappropriate to have college students at a party in Bellamy’s apartment. 

Two days prior to New Year’s Eve, however, the apartment above Monty and Jasper’s floods the bathroom and part of the ceiling above their kitchen falls in during dinner. Miller shows up at 1008, covered in water and what looks like plaster.

“Jesus,” Clarke swears when she sees him.

“We can’t have the party at our place,” is all Miller says and Clarke can see the superintendent and a maintenance worker standing in their doorway with Monty and Jasper. 

So they set up their apartment to accommodate everyone’s various friend groups, including some of Octavia’s classmates. Bellamy remains concerned at the prospect of having some of his students (some possibly underage) attend an alcohol filled party at his apartment.

“I can just the firing squad now,” Bellamy groans as he and Clarke are out buying mixers and decorations. 

“At least you’ll go out being known as a cool teacher.” 

“Every academic’s dream.” 

…

The party surprisingly goes off without too many hitches or blunders. Clarke’s never seen the apartment so crowded, and at several points has to steer couples away from her bedroom, but overall she's having a good time.

Clarke notes the way several of Octavia’s college friends eye Bellamy throughout the night, some even getting up the nerve to talk to him. At one point, he is talking to a girl who Clarke thinks she recognizes from his office that one day. Bellamy suddenly looks up and scans the room until he meets Clarke’s eyes. He sends her a look that says “help me” and Clarke saunters over to him. 

“Bell!” She dramatically calls as she nears, wrapping her hands around his upper arm. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hey, babe,” he says casually, looking away from the younger girl. His eyes now convey “just go with it”. 

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Clarke asks the girl, who looks so mortified that Clarke almost feels bad.

“I’ll see you after the break, Bel- er, professor Blake,” she stammers out before disappearing through a throng of people. 

“Babe?” Clarke asks once she’s out of sight.

“Turns out having my students think I’m in a relationship can come in handy,” Bellamy shrugs. 

“We’ll then I’m happy to be your fake girlfriend,” Clarke jokes, leading him towards the drink station. 

As the clock ticks nearer to midnight, Clarke mentally concocts an absurd plan. 

Kisses at midnight are tradition. They don’t really mean anything. And who else could she even kiss if not Bellamy? Everyone one else is already coupled up, even Raven and Wick are giving off the impression that they’re somewhat of an item now. 

Ever since Christmas (and even before then, if she’s being honest), she can’t shake her sudden overwhelming attraction to Bellamy. She’d been attracted to him since basically the day they met, but now it’s like animal instinct. Every time he’s near her, she has a sudden urge to jump him 

She considers confiding her scheme/ general craziness in Raven, but she can’t seem to find the girl anywhere. She definitely can’t talk to Octavia about this, or even Monty. 

It’s stupid anyway, she decides, Bellamy probably wouldn’t even want to kiss her and it would just make everything weird. 

Clarke’s spends so much time overanalyzing the situation that she doesn’t realize that midnight is less than five minutes away. Everyone is crowded around the tv where they’re live-streaming the Times Square show. 

Clarke looks around and doesn’t even see a mop of brown curls, so she walks over to Monty and Miller. At least she can get a cheek kiss if nothing else to ring in the new year with. 

The countdown starts at 50 and Clarke wills herself to focus on the screen and the excitement of those around her. 

When they get down to ten, she’s almost forgotten about Bellamy until there’s suddenly a tall presence beside her.

Clarke looks up at him and notices the mix of excitement and worry in his face that must mirror her own expression. 

“Five!” He slips his hand into hers lightly. 

“Four!” Clarke’s head spins.

“Three!” Monty and Miller are already making out. 

“Two!” A bottle of champagne is popped on top of the couch that Clarke is sure she’ll be wiping up in the morning. 

“One! Happy New Year!” Clarke can feel Bellamy bending down beside her, their faces nearly touching. She turns hers at the last minute and their lips meet in a messy collision. Bellamy’s only half touch her mouth and Clarke mortifiedly realizes that he was going for her cheek. 

Bellamy quickly pulls back, looking almost startled. Clarke thinks she’s going to pass out. She quickly looks around to find someone else she can greet to get away from Bellamy. She turns back to Miller and Monty but they’re still locked in an embrace.

Panicking, she grabs some guy she’s never even seen before and pulls him into a hug. 

“Happy New Year,” she squeals, feeling like she’s about to cry. 

She manages to avoid Bellamy for the rest of the night until people start heading out. Clarke excuses herself to bed a little before two, even though there are still a few people around.   
….

Clarke’s half asleep when she hears the door creak open. She lifts her head lazily, assuming its Octavia.

The darkened figure is too tall, however, and Clarke recognizes Bellamy’s curled head. 

“Bell?” 

“Shh, scoot over.” He walks over to her bed, pulling up the covers to climb in beside her.

“What are you doing?” Clarke sputters, suddenly very awake.

“Trying to sleep?” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Why are you in my bed?” 

“Two of Octavia’s friends are passed out in mine.”

“And the couch?”

“Miller,” Bellamy mutters, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

“Why isn't Miller in his own bed? In his own apartment?”

“I was too tired to ask.” He’s laying on his side facing her, eyes already closed. If he didn't look so serene and attractive, Clarke might have the energy to argue more. But she’s exhausted too, so she merely sighs and moves closer to his warmth. 

She’s still embarrassed about her earlier blunder, but the fact that Bellamy has willingly sought out her bed increases her confidence. 

It’s also freezing in the apartment. Even though tis single digits outside, they’ve been stingy with the heating. Bellamy’s body tenses as Clarke burrows her face into his chest. It’s his turn to be confused.

“What are you doing?” 

“Might as well make yourself useful,” she mumbles into his shirt. Bellamy lets out a strangled groan before wrapping an arm around her. It should feel weird, Clarke reasons, but it doesn’t. 

Eventually, Bellamy’s breathing evens and Clarke can feel his heartbeat fall into a steady rhythm underneath her ear. 

Clarke falls asleep wondering if their hearts are beating in sync.


	11. The One With a Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke comes to a realization and prepares to act on it. Things can't really be that easy, though, can they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so sorry for the long radio silence, life's been kind of hectic lately but I have a lot ready for the next few chapters so they should be out soon! Thanks for all the comments and love. Enjoy! (And don't kill me for the cliffhanger)

When Clarke wakes up, she’s on fire. Her first thought is that some drunken idiot turned the heat up during the party last night. Then she feels the weight on the right side of her body and looks down to see Bellamy’s tangled curls falling over her shoulder and chest. 

His head is on her right shoulder, the rest of his body practically on top of hers. She didn't take Bellamy for this kind of cuddler. If she had ever imagined what it would be like to sleep with Bellamy Blake- which she most certainly has not- she would have pictured waking up to her being the little spoon. In actuality, she’s more like Bellamy’s body pillow. Well, what do you know? 

Clarke isn't entirely unhappy with the situation, but she is burning up, so she lightly nudges Bellamy’s arm in an attempt to wake him. His only response is a grunt as he nuzzles his head further on her body, face moving towards her chest. Shit.

Bellamy isn't a heavy sleeper, Clarke knows this, he once got up because he heard her drop a necklace in the other room and then lectured her about being more considerate for people with normal sleeping habits. So she’s a little concerned about him when he doesn't so much as flutter an eyelid at her attempts. He’s breathing normally, she notices, which is a good sign. 

Clarke manages to reach for her phone with her free hand to check the time. 10:30. 

She wonders if Octavia and Lincoln are up and if the sleeping stragglers are still outside. 

Clarke reasons that her two options are to either try and fall back asleep until Bellamy wakes up or risk waking him up as she detangles herself. 

The heat is making her drowsy, so Clarke opts for settling back in and trying not focus too much on Bellamy’s weight on her. Or the distractingly hard mass pressing against her thigh. She’s a doctor, she understands anatomy and how the male body works, but did it have to be doing that right now? He’s asleep for chrissakes! 

Clarke starts listing all of the bones in the human body (her version of counting sheep since she was a child). She’s halfway through the skull when Bellamy mumbles something beside her.

“Huh?” Clarke opens her eyes and looks down at him, meeting his brown eyes.

“You talking in your sleep, princess?” He asks. 

“I didn’t realize,” Clarke says. Bellamy is finally moving off of her and claiming his own side of the bed. The sudden loss of warmth actually leaves Clarke with a chill through her body. 

“What time is it?” Bellamy asks, burrowing his face in a pillow so that the question sounds muffled. 

“Almost eleven,” Clarke tells him after she checks her phone again. Bellamy doesn’t respond and Clarke wonders if he’s fallen back asleep.

She watches the steady rise and fall of his body for a few moments before gently moving the covers off of her.

Bellamy mutters something into the pillow as Clarke stands up.

“Hmm?” She turns back to find Bellamy’s starring at her through glassy eyes.

“Where are you going?” He asks softly.

“To assess the damage from last night and make some coffee.” 

He nods, closing his eyes again. 

“I guess you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Clarke says before slipping into the main room. 

The apartment, surprisingly, isn’t in that much disarray. Besides some scattered bottles and confetti, nothing big appears broken or out of place.

The couch is empty, so she assumes Miller has gone home.

Clarke is starting the coffee maker when Octavia trudges out of her room, looking as bad as Clarke feels.

“Hey, sunshine,” Clarke smiles.

“Ugh, could you speak more softly?” Octavia groans, plopping down at the table.

“Pretty sure this is my normal volume,” Clarke laughs. “Is Lincoln still asleep?

“Nah, he left a few hours ago. Already has a New Years Resolution class or something. I could have killed him when he woke me up at six.”

Clarke nods in agreement, pulling down two mugs when the machine beeps. 

“So how was your night?” Octavia asks after a few sips of coffee, seemingly a little more lifelike. “I feel like I barely saw you.” 

“It was, uh, interesting.”

“Uh interesting?” 

“I did something stupid,” Clarke tells her. 

“Normal drunk stupid or like detrimental stupid?”

“Honestly, I-” 

The sound of a door shutting quiets Clarke. Bellamy emerges from her room in his rumpled t-shirt and briefs.

Octavia looks between Bellamy and Clarke a few times before letting out a long gasp.

“No?” She mouths. 

“What?” Bellamy gives them a confused look, Clarke drops her head on the table. 

“Are you serious?” Octavia whisper-hisses to Clarke. 

“O, are your friends still in my room?” Bellamy asks before Clarke can explain herself to Octavia.

“Who?” Octavia asks.

“I don’t know their names, Mallory maybe? Jess?”

Octavia gets up and checks in Bellamy’s room. She turns back to the two of them with an apologetic smile. 

“So you two didn’t…?”

“Of course not,”Bellamy says, “I just needed a place to sleep.” 

“I’ll kick them out,” Octavia promises, heading back into the room. 

Clarke stares into her coffee to avoid looking at Bellamy as he moves to pour himself a cup.

“Sorry about hijacking your bed last night,” Bellamy says. Clarke responds with a hum, still avoiding his eyes.

“You okay?” Clarke flinches as Bellamy lays a hand on her shoulder. He quickly pulls back and gives her a concerned glance. 

“Sorry,” Clarke stutters, “guess I’m more hungover than I thought.” 

“Yeah, well, we all probably had more last night than we should have,” Bellamy says with a comforting smile. 

Clarke nods.

Later that afternoon, when Octavia’s friends tiptoe out with heels in hand and they’ve cleared up most of the trash from main room, Clarke hides in her room to contemplate the last few hours. 

She sits at her desk, trying to avoid noticing that her bed now smells like Bellamy. 

What is going on with her? Is she just incredibly horny? Is she actually physically incapable of not being in a relationship? 

Then she thinks on the small (very small) possibility that she could have real feelings for Bellamy. It isn’t that crazy of a thought. Even in July she had felt drawn to him more than she had anyone except for Wells. 

And they spend so much time together, how could she not develop an attachment to Bellamy? 

She won’t go so far as to characterize it as “love,” however. 

So what if she’s had dreams where the two of them are slow dancing to Father John Misty in the kitchen or driving down a countryside in a top-down convertible? 

That doesn’t mean she’s in love with Bellamy, just that she watches too many romcoms. 

She calls Raven because this definitely isn't something she can talk to Octavia about. Or anyone in the Ark gang for that matter because they’d all gossip about it and it would eventually get back to Bellamy and Clarke would die of embarrassment before he even rejects her. 

Her and Raven meet up at a cafe in the early evening, Clarke doesn’t tell Bellamy and Octavia where she’s going, just hurries out of the apartment before they notice.

Raven’s first response to Clarke baring her soul is: “you’re an idiot.”

“Not exactly the encouragement I was looking for,” Clarke growls.

“You two are literally the last ones to realize that you're in love with each other,” Raven laughs.” 

“I never used the term ‘love’,” Clarke points out. “And Bellamy doesn’t feel the same way.”

Raven ignores her, “Griffin, I’ve seen a few things in my day, been around a few blocks. I know what I’m seeing and I’ve seen it since Halloween.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” Clarke asks in a quiet voice, too tired to argue with Raven.

“Tell him.”

“Tell him what? That I might be into him? That I want to explore something? It could ruin everything.”

“Maybe so,” Raven agrees, “but it could also end up being the best thing ever.”

“Speaking from experience?” Clarke asks, momentarily forgetting her own drama to tease Raven.

“Maybe,” the other girl grins. “Wick and I are still figuring it all out, but I don’t regret saying something.”

“So you made the first move?” 

“This isn’t the 1950s, I’m an independent woman, I can tell a guy I like him.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, clinking their La Croixs together. 

…

Clarke thinks about Raven’s advice on the journey home, deciding to walk more of the way than she usually would. She needs the cold wind to clear her mind. 

She stops in front of a pretzel vender and her mind rushes back to those horrible days when she had just learned about Finn. She thinks about Bellamy’s behavior towards Finn, the hostility even before they learned what a psycho douche he really was. 

Could it have been jealousy, Clarke wonders. She thinks about all their interactions, all the moment Clarke could have sworn Bellamy wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.

That all couldn’t have been in her mind, could it have?

She continues heading back to the apartment and she’s about a block away before she’s overcome the sudden truth of it all. 

She’s in love with Bellamy.

She’d probably been in love with him for as long as they’d been sharing a home.

She would be in love with Bellamy even if he didn’t love her back. 

The realization consumes her. It’s all Clarke can think about. 

When she gets back to the apartment, Bellamy’s cleaning the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says as she closes the door. She’s going to let it slip out, Clarke realizes in horror, she can’t not.

I love you, Clarke thinks in her head. “Hi,” is what she actually says.

“Where ya been?” 

“Just at Raven’s,” Clarke shrugs. 

“We didn’t know if you’d gone out for dinner, but I saved you some pasta in the fridge."

I love you, Clarke thinks. “Thank you.”

“You okay?” He asks. 

I love you. “Fine.” 

“You’re being weird,” Bellamy notes, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No I’m not. Why…why would you- what? How am I being weird?”

“Case and point,” Bellamy laughs. “I’m heading out, so we can do the whole interrogation thing later.” 

Clarke suddenly notices how nicely Bellamy is dressed. It isn’t his usual weekday night out attire. He’s in blue slacks and a white collared shirt, buttons undone to his mid chest. 

“Where are you going?” Clarke asks.

“Just meeting a friend for a drink.” Not any of their friends, Clarke realizes. 

“Sinclair?” 

“Um, no, a visiting history professor actually. They’re starting with the semester.”

“Have fun.”

“See you later,” Bellamy ruffles Clarke’s hair before he slips out the door and Clarke could literally melt into the floor. 

Octavia must be at Lincoln’s or out somewhere, so Clarke eats Bellamy’s chicken tortellini (swooning at the way Bellamy wrote her name on a sticky note on top of the Tupperware) while watching an episode of Parks & Rec, needing something to distract her. 

When the episode ends, Clarke knows she can’t be alone with her thoughts so she heads over to the guys’ apartment. 

Maya’s there, the four of them about to watch a film. They seem happy about Clarke’s presence, though she can’t help but feel like a fifth wheel. 

Halfway through the movie, they run out of popcorn and Monty offers to make some more.

“Clarke, can you help me in the kitchen?” He asks.

“Help you microwave popcorn?” She asks. He rolls his eyes and motions for her to join him. 

Over the sound of the movie and the small distance between the microwave and the couch, Clarke is pretty sure no one can hear when Monty whispers to her.

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“What about last night?” She asks coyly, earning an eye roll. 

“I saw the kiss. Hell, everyone saw the kiss.”

“Everyone?”

“So what happened? Miller said Bellamy spent the night in your room last night.” 

“Okay why was Miller passed out on our couch? And how does he know if he was passed out?” 

“I left with Maya to help her get Jasper back to the apartment, I guess I was taking too long and Nathan forgot.” Monty was the only person who called Miller by his first name. “But this is about you, so spill please! Did Bellarke finally happen?”

“What the hell is Bellarke?”

“It’s what everyone’s been calling you guys for weeks,” Jasper calls from the couch. Clarke looks up to see that they’ve paused the movie and the others are all looking at her.

“Seriously, Clarke, we have eyes,” Miller says. 

“For the record,” Clarke growls, “nothing happened between Bellamy and I last night and nothing is probably ever going to happen so quit it with the ship names and the gossip.”

“What’s the big deal?” Jasper asks. “You both like each other. You’re both super attractive. Seems only right.”

“Bellamy doesn’t think about me that way,” Clarke says. A chorus of groans, laughs, and “come on”s.

“Are you serious?” Miller laughs. “Bellamy’s been obsessed with you since you moved in.”

“That’s not-”

“Clarke, you can’t be that blind,” Monty says. “Even Maya thought you guys were dating at Thanksgiving.”

“It’s true,” the pale girl shrugs.

“Well then why hasn’t he made a move?” Clarke asks.

“I think he thinks he has,” Miller says. “He told me about your date before Thanksgiving.”

“He did?”

Miller nods. “Look, Bellamy may have game with the ladies, but he hasn’t been in a real relationship in like a weirdly long time. Forgive him if his courting methods are a little rusty.” 

Clarke thinks back on all of her interactions with Bellamy over the past few weeks. The cheek kisses, the stroking of her hair, the walking her to her door every night. 

Was this all Bellamy’s subtle, gentlemanly way? 

The expressions on the faces of the others make her think it might be. 

As Clarke lays in bed that night, inhaling Bellamy’s lingering scent, she makes a decision.

She’s going to tell him. She has to. 

It’s a liberating thought, sending elation through her entire body. 

She’s going to tell him as soon as she sees him, she decides. 

…

Clarke in fact does not tell Bellamy that she is in love with him when she sees him the next morning. She doesn’t tell him the day after that either, or in the following week.

Every time it seems right, something goes wrong or a voice inside her reminds her of all the possible ways everything could fall apart. 

About three weeks after New Years, Monty gives Clarke a long lecture at the hospital. She returns to the apartment that evening, determined to finally tell Bellamy how she feels, everything else be damned.

Clarke nearly goes crazy waiting for Bellamy to get back from work. She distracts herself by making dinner (spaghetti because that’s all she’s really capable of).

Octavia gets back with Lincoln a little after six, Bellamy should have retuned by then too. 

“Good, you made dinner!” Octavia chirps. “I was going to suggest we order in.”

“Um, yeah, thought I should pull my weight for a change,” Clarke laughs, trying to hide the fact that she had not intended on Octavia (and certainly not Lincoln) being witness to her confession. 

“I’m starved,” Octavia groans, pulling down plates to set three seats.

“What about Bellamy?” Clarke tries to ask casually.

“Oh, he said he had a dinner thing and that he’d be home later.” 

Clarke’s stomach sinks briefly, there was no way she could keep up this courage till later tonight. 

“Are you alright, Clarke?” Lincoln asks.

“Yeah, just a long day at work.” 

Throughout dinner, Clarke mostly just listens to Lincoln and Octavia, chiming in every so often to keep them from asking if she’s ok. 

…

It’s a little after nine when Clarke finally hears someone unlocking the door. Lincoln and Octavia have retreated to her room and Clarke’s been reviewing some patient files on the couch. She stands as soon as the door opens, prepared to launch herself at Bellamy and finally clear her mind. 

Clarke stops short, however, when she sees that Bellamy isn’t alone. 

A woman walks in behind him. She’s tall, nearly Bellamy’s height with curly brown hair and dark eyes. She’s cute, Clarke thinks, kind of mousy, but cute. 

Clarke also can’t help but notice the way Bellamy is leading her in with a hand on the small of her back.

“Hi,” Clarke says, when they’re both inside.

“Hey,” Bellamy gives Clarke his usual smile. Maybe this isn’t what it looks like, Clarke thinks. 

“Hi,” the woman says and Clarke realizes that Bellamy hasn’t introduced her yet.

“Clarke, this is Gina.” Bellamy’s hand is on the woman’s shoulder now and she’s smiling at Clarke. “She’s the visiting professor I told you about.”

“Oh,” Clarke puts it all together, the drinks after New Years, the later nights he’s been spending out. “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d be so, um, young.” 

Gina laughs. “I get that. I didn’t think Brooklyn’s resident classics professor would be so young either. Or handsome.” 

Well that definitely wasn’t a platonic statement…

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Clarke says because she’s literally going to pass out if she stays standing in front of them for too long. 

“It was really nice to meet you,” Gina says, “Bellamy’s told me a lot about you.”

Clarke nods, chancing one last look at Bellamy to find that he’s staring at the floor. 

Clarke has the willpower of about ten seconds after she gets into her room before she starts crying. 

Fuck, is all she thinks. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.


	12. The one with Gina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy has a girlfriend and Clarke comes to terms with everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this is kind of a big one...thanks to everyone who's stuck with me up to this point! Your comments really make is so much easier for me to write. Enjoy!

Clarke wants to hate Gina, she really does. But the girl is sweet and as much as Clarke thinks she’s all wrong for Bellamy, she isn't a bad person. So Clarke lets it go and makes small talk when she comes over and wishes Bellamy good luck before dates. Even helps him pick out flowers for her.

Octavia, however, has no problem voicing her thoughts on Bellamy’s new girlfriend.

“She’s just so bland,” Octavia rants at the Drop Ship one afternoon after the two saw Bellamy and Gina off on a date. 

“You talking shit about my coffee?” Murphy seemingly comes out of nowhere, coffee pot in hand.

“No idiot, Bellamy’s girlfriend.”

“I thought you were Bellamy’s girlfriend,” Murphy points at Clarke causing her face to go red. 

“Thank you!” Octavia practically screams.

“Stop it, O,” Clarke hisses, people are starting to stare. “He likes her.”

“He likes that one elderly checkout lady at Whole Foods too, but that doesn't mean he should date her.” 

“Can you drop it, please?” 

“Come on, Clarke, why aren’t you fighting for this?” Octavia whines.

“For what?”

“For Bellarke!”

“I told you all to stop using that term.” 

“This is just a hiccup,” Octavia assures her. “I mean how long can they last? She’s only here for a semester.”

“Shouldn't you be more concerned about graduation than your brother’s love life?”

“I can multitask.” 

As they’re talking, Raven enters the coffee shop with a young woman who Clarke has never seen before. She’s dressed very boho and has her long brown hair in an array of braids. Seems like someone Raven would hang out with, Clarke wonders if she’s another graduate student from Brooklyn. 

Raven sees the two and waves over, but the other woman keeps a beeline for the bar. Clarke watches as Murphy notices her and rushes out to greet her with a long kiss. 

“I’m assuming that’s the fiancé?” Clarke asks when Raven reaches them. 

“Murphy has a fiancé?” Octavia sputters. Raven laughs and nods.

“Emori!” She calls. Murphy’s fiancé slowly heads over to their table, offering a shy smile. Clarke can’t help but notice the scar around her right eye. She’s still beautiful, of course, and Clarke hopes she doesn’t notice her stare. 

“This is Clarke,” Raven introduces. “And her roommate, Octavia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Emori says. “Both of you. Raven’s told me a lot.” 

“Uh oh,” Octavia jokes.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Clarke says. “I’ve wondered about the girl who has Murphy’s heart.”

“John can seem like kind of a grump, huh?” Emori laughs. 

“You can tell he’s a total softie,” Octavia winks at her.

“We’re grabbing Murphy and heading over to the rink,” Raven tells them. “Wanna join?” 

“Tempting, but I should be working on a paper,” Octavia says.

“Clarke? Maybe Bellamy can join?” 

Clarke had mentioned Gina to Raven only to explain why she hadn’t confessed her feelings. Like Octavia, Raven was sure she was a passing fad. 

“Bellamy’s actually out with his girlfriend,” Clarke says, cringing at the label. Raven’s expression falters into something akin to sympathy. It’s the same look the guys have been giving her since Bellamy went public with Gina. Clarke hates it. 

“Oh,” Raven says quietly, “sorry."

“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke tells them and does her best to believe it too. 

It doesn’t matter that she can see Bellamy smiling and know it’s because of someone else. It doesn’t matter that he’s changed his phone background to a picture of her. It doesn’t matter that he takes her on the back of his motorcycle (something Clarke’s always refused to do for safety reasons).

It especially doesn’t matter that she’s apparently also a master chef and baker and they jointly cook meals that should be on a goddamn cooking show or something.

“Then come out and take your mind off of it?” Raven suggests.

“I should get cracking on that paper anyway,” Octavia says, gulping down the rest of her drink. 

“I guess I don’t have a shift till tonight,” Clarke admits.

“Excellent!” Raven squeals as Murphy approaches them. It’s the first time Clarke has ever seen him without his apron. In his sweater, coat, and jeans he looks different, younger. 

“What’s the hold up?” He asks, sidling up to Emori.

“Clarke’s coming with,” Raven explains.

“Whatever,” the barista shrugs. Emori elbows him. 

…

Clarke has to admit, ice skating does briefly take her mind off of Bellamy. She’s always loved skating, as a child she briefly dreamed of being an Olympic figure skater, though she was never that good. 

Clarke is surprised by how bad Raven is, the girl practically clinging to Clarke the entire time they’re on the ice.

“I hate this,” Raven huffs after she’s fallen for the third time.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Clarke asks.

“It sounded like more fun in my head.” 

Emori and Murphy skate up beside them, hands clasped. Clarke smiles at the light expression on the usually cross barista’s face. Love sure is powerful, she thinks. 

“Still having fun?” Emori asks.

“Oh yeah, buckets,” Raven sneers.

“I think this one needs a hot chocolate,” Clarke says.

“As long as I don’t have to make it,” Murphy huffs. 

They leave the rink and stop at a small cafe where the girls each order a hot chocolate and Murphy gets black coffee.

“Seriously?” Clarke asks after he places his order. “You’re a barista and you don’t have a signature drink?”

“My signature drink is coffee. Plain and simple.” 

“He’s a fan of apple mojitos,” Emori whispers. 

Clarke gets to know a little more about Murphy and Emori’s relationship and their early days of college. She doesn’t notice how the others try to avoid all mentions of Finn until Raven says something about it.

“We can’t pretend like he wasn’t there,” she sighs, “and besides, I’ve moved on.” 

“I’m still gonna beat the shit out of him one day,” Murphy promises. Then, looking at Clarke: “I’m sure Bellamy will help.” 

Clarke just nods, taking a long sip of her drink,

“Seriously, Clarke, what’s the deal with this girl?” Raven asks,

“Gina? I don’t know, she’s from the midwest somewhere, she teaches Medieval history, she’s fluent in French, she has natural curls, she-”

“No,” Raven stops her. “I meant the deal with her and Bellamy. They can’t be that serious. He just met her and he obviously has feelings for you.”

“He does not ‘obviously have feelings’ for me.”

“As a barista, I see a lot of things,” Murphy tells her, “and I know what love looks like.”

“Ok, can you go back to being grumpy and uninterested?”

“I think you should to talk to him,” Raven says.

“Why? I know what he’s going to say.”

“No, you don’t,” she counters. “You owe it to both of you.” 

When Clarke gets home that evening, she isn’t entirely opposed to taking Raven’s advice and talking to Bellamy. That is, until she finds Bellamy and Gina snuggled up on the couch. They aren’t sitting any closer than Clarke used to sit with him, but something about seeing Bellamy’s arm slung around the other girl opens a cold pit in Clarke’s stomach.

“Hey Clarke,” Gina chirps when she notices her.

“Hey guys,” Clarke manages to get out before heading to her room. She’s vaguely aware of Bellamy saying her name but she continues until the door is closed and she can collapse on her bed. 

A knock comes a few minutes later, which Clarke ignores. It’s followed by Bellamy’s soft voice (the one he only uses when her or Octavia are particularly sad or unwell). 

“Clarke?” He tries again. 

She knows that if she doesn’t answer in some way he’ll come in and find her in this pathetic position, so she pulls herself up and wipes her eyes.

“Yeah?” She opens the door only slightly until she can see Bellamy’s face. His forehead is crinkled in concern.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

“Fine.”

“You’ve seemed kind of off the past few days,” he notes, “did something happen?”

Did something happen? Was that a fucking joke? 

“I’m just trying to get a nap in before my shift,” Clarke says, shutting the door before Bellamy can say anything else. 

…

By March, when Bellamy and Gina have been seeing each other for abut two months, Clarke is finally at peace with it all. 

It wasn’t meant to be, she decides. Bellamy is happy with Gina. Gina’s great. Clarke’s even heard whispers of her trying to get a permanent position in New York. Which is great. 

For the most part, things are normal between Bellamy and Clarke. They still hang out when no one else is around (which isn’t that often these days). He still tousles her hair and occasionally pecks her cheek or forehead (which is no different than what he does to Octavia). 

Clarke even goes on a few dates that Raven sets her up on. The longest is with a woman named Lexa, who owns an art gallery. She takes a look at a few of Clarke’s pieces and offers her some wall space, something she claims she’d do even if they weren’t sleeping together. 

Clarke likes Lexa, even though she made it clear from the beginning she isn’t looking for a longterm relationship.

“I don’t really do those anymore,” Lexa tells her over drinks one night, “love is too messy. Not really my style.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, “me neither.” 

They have fun for a few weeks until Lexa decides that it’s getting too serious and they both agreed against serious. 

Deep down, Clarke knows she doesn’t just want to be somebody’s fuck buddy, so she agrees to call it off. 

“Call if you ever just want to have some fun,” Lexa tells her after their ‘breakup’ dinner. “And I’ll let you know when a painting sells.”

“If,” Clarke corrects her.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Griffin,” Lexa tells her with a short kiss. 

Anyway, Clarke is moving on too. Which is how she’s completely over Bellamy and 100% supportive of his relationship. Maybe I can be a groomsman at the wedding, Clarke thinks. 

…

It’s mid-March, Brooklyn is off on spring break in a week. Octavia has beach plans with some fellow seniors and Clarke wonders if Bellamy’s planned anything with Gina. She thinks he would have told her if he was going to be gone too, but maybe not.

“Excited for break?” Clarke asks one evening when it’s just the two of them in the apartment. Bellamy had surprisingly been alone when Clarke got back from work, leftovers wrapped up for her in the fridge. 

He had even sat at the table with her grading paper while she ate. 

Now Clarke’s just made them some tea and plans on watching a couple episodes of the X Files before bed. 

“I could use a few days off,” Bellamy responds from his place in the kitchenette. 

“Are you guys going somewhere?” Clarke tries to sound casual as she sips her tea.

“Huh?” Bellamy seems confused by the question. “Octavia’s going to some beach.”

“I meant you and Gina,” Clarke clarifies. “If you aren’t, that new superhero movie’s coming out and I think Jas wants to get a group together.” Clarke turns back towards the television as she speaks so Bellamy can’t see her face. 

“We actually broke up,” Bellamy says, voice as calm as if he had just told her tomorrow’s weather forecast.

“What?” Clarke nearly drops her mug as she whips her head back to look at him. 

“Just wasn't meant to be, I guess,” Bellamy’s looking down at the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” she says shakily, unsure of what to do with the information. 

They broke up. Bellamy is single. Say something else, idiot, her mind screams. Bellamy only responds with a shrug and a weak smile. 

Clarke places her mug down on the coffee table and walks over to where Bellamy is leaning against the counter. Bellamy is watching her expectantly, as if he can read her mind. Clarke freezes a few feet away from him. Her mouth is suddenly dry and she can’t find her voice for a minute.

“Clarke?” 

“Um. Hi,” she lets out a nervous laugh. He raises an eyebrow. “I was just gonna say if you want to talk, I’m here.” The previous amusement is gone from his eyes as he nods.

“Well goodnight,” Clarke moves towards her room but Bellamy’s hand catches her wrist, spinning her back around to face him. 

“For full disclosure,” he breathes in a low voice, “she broke up with me.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Because of you,” he drops his voice to a near whisper. Clarke is even more confused now.

“What are you saying, Bellamy?”

“She said it was clear how I felt about you and that it wasn't fair to her if I wanted to be with somebody else.”

“Bell,” Clarke breathes because he’s looking at her with so much intensity that Clarke feels she might burst. 

“She was right,” he’s still holding her wrist and uses it to pull her flush against it. “Clarke I’m-” 

She doesn’t let him finish before she crushes her mouth to his. The kiss is messy, all teeth and hot breath, nothing like any of her other first kisses. There’s so much desperation, so much need, as Bellamy wraps his arms around her. 

The kiss slowly becomes more purposeful and suddenly Bellamy’s lifting her up and she’s wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“Bellamy,” she breaths out as he trails kisses from her jaw down to her collarbone. She’s only half aware as he drops them down on the couch. Clarke fists a hand in his curly locks, the other scraping down his back until she reaches the end of his shirt. 

She stills when she realizes what she’s doing. Bellamy notices, pulling back to look at her. He gives her a look that seems to convey, is this alright? She nods and Bellamy takes it upon himself to pull off his own shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. Clarke presses a kiss into his warm chest. Bellamy helps her pull her own top off, disposing it wherever his has been flung. He trails kisses from her collarbone down to her hip. The farther down he goes, the more Clarke feels herself losing her mind. 

Her phone snaps them both out of it and Bellamy’s quick to pull his mouth away from her body. They both stare at the offending gadget. He’s still on top of her, her legs are still wrapped around his torso, but they both know the moment is over.

Clarke lets the ringing stop and leans forward to press her head to Bellamy’s naked chest, emitting a low groan.

“It’s ok, princess,” Bellamy presses a kiss to her hair.

“I guess that’s a sign we should talk,” she says into his hot skin. He makes a noise of agreement and pulls himself off of her. Clarke’s phone rings again and she furrows her brow.

“It’s after midnight,” she scoffs, reaching for it. 

“Who is it?” Bellamy asks. 

“Mom?” Clarke answers quickly, mind flashing back to the phone call she received from her mother in the middle of Junior prom to inform her of her father’s death.

“Clarke,” the tone of Abby’s voice only increases the dread building inside of her.

“What happened?” 

“It’s Wells,” Abby was never one to beat around the bush, “he was in an accident.”

“What?” Clarke feels herself go numb, steeling her for what’s to come.

“He didn't make it.” The confirmation makes Clarke feel nauseous. She can’t even remember much of the rest of the conversation later, just hears her mother’s voice behind the blood rushing through her ears. 

Bellamy’s been watching her throughout the call, eyes wide in worry at Clarke’s expressions.

Abby says something about D.C. and a funeral and a town car in the afternoon.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Clarke says, hanging up before her mother can continue.

“What’s going on?” The concern in Bellamy’s voice makes her heart drop, but she can’t seem to form words. “Clarke?” 

His hands are on her face, searching over her as if she was injured. Is she? Something feels wrong, but it isn’t superficial.

“That was my mom,” she says.

“Is she ok?” Bellamy’s still cupping her face, starring intently into her eyes.

“She’s fine,” Clarke breaths. “Wells…Uh, Wells is dead.” Saying it out loud proves too much and Clarke can’t stop the bombardment of tears. Bellamy pulls her tightly against his chest. He doesn't say anything, just strokes her hair and coos in her ear. 

Clarke manages to relay whatever information Abby told her about the funeral. Bellamy offers to go with her, Clarke wants to say yes but knows its unnecessary and would cause some awkwardness.

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him, “I’m going with my mother and Kane.” He seems hesitant and she does her best to seem unaffected by everything. He understands, she knows he does, but its still awkward mourning your long term ex in front of your…whatever her and Bellamy are now. 

They agree to talk about everything later, Bellamy tells her all she should focus on now was the funeral.

After the phone call, Bellamy and Clarke spend the night together for the second time. He goes back to her room with her, waits until she is no longer crying and securely tucked in before pressing a long kiss to her forehead. He whispers good night, allowing his hand to linger on her hair for a long moment before turning to leave the room. Bellamy doesn’t like to overstep, especially if he doesn’t think he is needed. As his hand connects with the door handle Clarke hears herself say: “stay.” 

Her voice sounds desperate and raw from all the crying and range of emotions she has gone through in the past few hours. Bellamy turns immediately at the sound, scanning her face to make sure he hasn’t imagined the plea. Clarke feels herself relax as he returns to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and slowly undressing down to his boxers. He lifts the covers and she moves to make room for him. Once in bed, he wastes no time wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side. Clarke moves to rest her cheek on his bare chest, focusing on the strong sound of his heartbeat. Neither say anything as they lay in her darkened room. 

Clarke isn’t even sure if she’s slept when her eyes open to the first rays of sunlight in the morning. She’s in exactly the same position as the night before, tucked securely into Bellamy’s side. She looks up from her place on his chest to find that he’s also awake. Maybe he didn’t sleep either. 

Bellamy presses a long kiss to her hair and Clarke shuts her eyes, wondering how different this morning would have been if she hadn’t gotten that phone call. 

Clarke showers and packs in a haze. Bellamy makes breakfast which Clarke picks at out of gratitude, but is worried she’ll throw up later. 

“Can you tell the others?” Clarke asks Bellamy as she folds her black dress on the top of her carry on bag. 

“Of course,” he replies. Clarke studies him through her glossy eyes. He looks as tired as she feels but he’s still so beautiful. Under all of her confusion and sadness, Clarke manages to feel slightly elated by the knowledge that she has him now. She wonders if that’s wrong. 

….

The funeral isn’t till the next morning, but there’s family visitation tonight that Abby feels they should be at. Her and Marcus are picking Clarke up in a town car to head to the train station. 

Bellamy waits on the curb with her, an arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. Since receiving the news, Clarke isn’t sure Bellamy’s let go of her.

When the car arrives, Clarke fights the urge to grab Bellamy’s hand and rush back into the building. Pretend like none of this is happening. 

Kane gets out to grab Clarke’s bag from Bellamy. Abby is sitting in the back of the town car, dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes so that Clarke can’t see her mother’s reaction to Bellamy’s presence. Before Clarke gets in the car, she turns to say goodbye to Bellamy. 

“I’m not really sure what to say here,” Bellamy speaks for the first time since they got outside.  
Clarke lets out a watery laugh. “I’ll see you soon,” she promises. 

Bellamy wraps her in a tight hug, one hand clutching the braid down her back. She allows herself to melt into him for just a moment, relishing the scent and feel of the space between his neck and shoulders. 

“Text me when you get there,” he says in her ear. 

Clarke finally pulls back to press a soft kiss on Bellamy’s cheek. She slides in beside her mother in the back seat and Abby wordlessly takes her hand. As they pull away, Clarke looks back at Bellamy until the apartment building is completely out of sight.


	13. The One With More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attends Wells' funeral, secrets come to light, and decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long time, no update....I'm sorry about going AWOL for the past few weeks, school and life were just a whirlwind and I can't promise that I'll be back on regular updating schedule, but this story definitely isn't over! 
> 
> This is kind of a different chapter, but it clears up a lot of background questions and sets the stage for the next part of the story, so I hope you like it. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far, I truly appreciate each and every one of you <3

As Abby and Kane exit the train at Union Station, Clarke fights the urge to remain on the Amtrak. Realistically, no one could force her off. She could pay for an extended ticket and maybe take the Crescent line all the way down to New Orleans, anything to keep from what she knew she would have to do over the next two days. Who she would have to see.

Abby turns back to her expectantly from the platform and Clarke knows that she can’t stay on. She isn’t a child. This isn’t something she can run from or ignore.

“The visitation begins at 4,” Abby tells her as they pile into an Uber for the hotel. Clarke is glad her mother hadn’t made plans for them to stay with anyone they knew, she isn’t sure she could handle the part of a cordial guest right now.

Clarke nods and Abby gives her a sympathetic look.

“I’m fine,” Clarke assures her with a scowl. By her count, Clarke has said the same thing ten times since they had gotten in the car together this morning.

“Just because you and Wells weren’t together, doesn’t mean this isn’t an incredibly big deal,” Abby tells her. “I’m just worried you aren’t processing your grief properly.”

“I’m processing as fast as I can,” Clarke says.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if-”

“Mom,” Clarke finally snaps. “Please. Please don’t tell me that it’s okay to cry or to feel whatever.”

Abby gives her a long look before sighing and turning forward.

“I remember D.C. being warmer than New York at this time of year,” Kane remarks from the front seat. Clarke catches his eyes in the rearview mirror, sending him a look of gratitude.

“March is finicky everywhere,” Abby says absentmindedly.

…

They arrive at the Jaha’s townhouse in Georgetown a little after 4.

Clarke is surprised by all of the familiar faces, mostly older colleagues of her parents but a few younger people who she knew from their school days.

Cece Cartwig, one of Abby’s closest friends from D.C., greets them first.

“Look at you,” Cece coos as she places a hand on Clarke’s upper arm. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke says politely.

“You poor thing,” she continues. “I mean, I know you were on a break when it happened but-”

“We weren’t on a break,” Clarke tries to explain. “We were-”

“How’s Thelonius?” Abby interjects. 

“As good as can be expected, I guess,” she sighs. 

Clarke scans the room for sight of Wells’ father. She hadn’t seen him since he visited them in the city almost a year ago, right before everything imploded. Right before she found out he was involved in her father’s death.

Wells’ death had certainly shocked Clarke, but her unease about the funeral was more about facing Thelonius.

…

Wells had brought it up rather randomly one night while they were eating delivery Thai. Clarke still isn’t sure what suddenly prompted him to admit knowledge that his father was essentially responsible for Jake Griffin’s death.

Clarke was mid-bite into her curry when Wells announced he had something to tell her.

“Is it about work?” Clarke asked, noting the anxiety in her boyfriend’s face. Had he been fired from the firm?

“No,” Wells shook his head and stood up from the table. Was he going to propose, Clarke wondered? He paced around the room for a few moments before spinning back to Clarke, a look of direness in his eyes.

“It’s about your father.”

“My father?” 

“And mine.” 

“What?” Clarke put down her spoon and raised an eyebrow at him.

Wells reclaimed his set and reached over to take hold of Clarke’s hands. 

“That night,” he began, “the night he died…he wasn’t alone.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asked, pulling her hands from under his.

“Our fathers were together. It was my dad’s car.”

“He was in a rental car,” Clarke corrected him. “He had just picked up to drive to Richmond the next morning.”

“That’s what the official report said,” Wells countered.

“After they saw us off to prom, my father invited Jake out for a drink to talk about a bill he wanted to pass. I guess your dad wasn’t on board at first. Anyway, dad drove them there but he must have had too much.”

Clarke didn’t say anything. She still wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Jake was driving them back and I guess my dad was drunk and still arguing about whatever and…”

“And?” Clarke squeaked out, a tear already rolling down her cheek.

“He says he can’t remember the crash itself, just waking up off the road, upside-down in his seat.”

“Oh my God.”

“He said he tried to check your father’s pulse, but he was so disoriented that after he got himself out of the car he just, well he bolted.”

“Bolted.” Clarke repeated.

“He called his lawyer from a gas station.”

“He didn’t call 911?”

Wells shook his head.

“He just left him there?”

“He was thinking of how it would look, or he wasn’t thinking…”

Clarke half heard him mention something about a new Chappaquiddick. 

“So your father left mine to die to avoid a bad press release?”

“The paramedics said he died on impact,” Wells assured her. “It doesn’t make anything right but-”

“How long have you known?” Clarke asked. Wells pleaded with her with his eyes. “How long have you known?” Clarke repeated, voice growing colder.

“Since right after it happened,” he admitted. Clarke let out a sob, clamping a hand on her chest as if to keep her beating heart from jumping out.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Wells said, reaching for her. Clarke stood up from her chair and moved farther from him.

“Don’t.”

“Clarke, I’m so sorry.”

Clarke showed up at her mother’s stoop later that evening with as much as she was able to throw into a bag without meeting Wells’ eyes.

Abby waited until the next morning to question her uncontrollable sobbing from the previous night. Clarke couldn’t bring herself to tell her. Abby didn’t need this new pain, she could bare it alone.

…

Clarke isn’t sure what she expects to feel upon seeing Thelonius. Anger, probably. Disgust. Hate?

But when she sees Wells’ father, a man she knew for as long as her own, and now longer, Clarke can’t bring herself to hate him. Perhaps its the utter devastation in his usually stony features. 

Thelonius spots the family at the same time Clarke sees him. She watches him excuse himself from whoever he was talking to and make his way towards them.

Clarke knows this house like the back of her hand, she knows every entry and exit. If she wanted to run, she could find her way out. But she can’t, she reminds herself.

“Thelonius,” Abby greets him with a long hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” he tells her, though he’s looking straight at Clarke as he speaks.

“Kane,” he claps the other man on the back before pulling him in for a short hug.

“My deepest condolences,” Kane says. Thelonius gives him a cordial nod before turning his gaze more purposefully towards Clarke. 

Clarke prepares herself for whatever he’s about to say to her. Does he know that she knows? Does he hate her for leaving Wells, unsure of her reasons?

“Clarke,” his tone is surprisingly soft, making her heart beat faster.

“Thelonius, I-” before Clarke can think of anything to say, he’s hugging her tightly.

 He smells like Wells. Clarke can’t breathe.

“You have no idea how glad I am that you came,” he tells her.

“How could I not?” Clarke asks shakily. When he finally draws back, he keeps a hand on Clarke’s arm and gives her a sad smile.

“You were always like a daughter to me, you know. Even before you and Wells, I’ve always considered you part of our family.”

Clarke nods. 

Clarke notices that Abby and Kane have moved away to speak to another couple, leaving her along with Jaha.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it,” Jaha begins in a slow, uncertain voice, “and I was hoping that you could make a few words tomorrow. At the service, I mean.”

“But Wells and I-” Clarke sputters.

“I know. I know, but you’re his oldest friend. He loved you more than anything.” 

That stung.

Clarke didn’t know what to say.

If not for Thelonius, a part of her knows that she owes this to Wells. She’ll never be able to apologize for how things ended, never be able to allow him to fully explain himself. If this is the last thing she’ll ever be able to do for Wells, Clarke knows she must. 

“Of course.” Of course she’d make a speech at the funeral. Until less than a year ago that would have been the only conceivable option in this situation.

“Thank you,” Thelonius wraps Clarke into another tight hug. “It means a lot, Clarke.”

“Of course,” she repeats.

…

Back in the hotel, Abby sends Kane out for takeout from Clarke’s favorite dumpling place. Clarke tries her best to eat a few out of appreciation for what she knows her mother is trying to do.

Abby and Kane eventually retreat to their own room, leaving Clarke by herself.

The service is at nine the next morning, Clarke knows she should try and fall asleep, but her mind is still reeling from everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Could it really have just been one night ago that she was back in the apartment in Brooklyn, kissing Bellamy on the couch with zero thoughts of her father’s death or Thelonius Jaha?  

At the thought of Bellamy, Clarke remembers the two unanswered texts he’d sent her earlier in the day. After everything, Clarke had forgotten to respond. 

She pulls out her phone and rereads the messages. They’re simple. Just a “How’s everything going?” Followed an hour later by “if you need anything, I’m here.”

It’s just before nine. Clarke imagines him sitting in the apartment, either on the couch or on his bed. He’d have his glasses on and perhaps he’d already be in his joggers and t-shirt. She wonders if he’s grading papers or watching a movie with Octavia.

She presses the contact picture without thinking. He answers almost immediately, giving her no time to rethink her decision.

“Clarke?” Bellamy breathes over the line. The sound of his voice unclenches something in Clarke’s chest and it takes her a moment to gather herself.

“Hey,” she’s finally able to say.

“How are you?” Bellamy asks, his tone conveying that he knows it’s an awkward question.

“Exhausted,” Clarke tells him, moving the phone to her other ear so that she can lay on the bed.

“Maybe you should try and get some sleep,” he suggests.

“Not that kind of exhausted.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Clarke answers truthfully. “Not yet. It’s all just been very weird here.”

“I can imagine.” 

“I wanted to hear your voice,” Clarke tells him, ignoring how cheesy it sounds.

“I’m glad you called.”

She tells Bellamy about Thelonius asking her to make a speech. She doesn’t tell him what she knows about his involvement in her father’s death. Doesn’t tell him the reason she left Wells in the first place. She wants to, more than she’s ever wanted to tell anyone anything, but it would take too long and she has neither the physical nor the emotional energy. 

“Oh. Wow,” is his response to the request.

“Just to say a few words. I’m his oldest friend…”

“It makes sense,” Bellamy says quickly, “I didn’t mean that I thought that was weird, I just-uh- I’m sure that’ll be tough for you.”

“I don’t know. I have so much to say about him, so much good before we fell apart, but I can’t think of anything that feels right…”

“Speak from the heart,” Bellamy says softly.

“Yeah,” Clarke whispers.

This should be weird, discussing her dead ex-boyfriend with her current label-to-be-determined, but it isn’t. Nothing feels weird with Bellamy.

They’re both silent for a few minutes but she can hear him breathing over the line. Clarke closes her eyes and focuses in on the sound.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice returns, prompting her eyes to open. She hums into the receiver.

“I…” he fades off for a second before quietly saying: “I can’t wait for you to be back.”

“Me neither.”

“Get some sleep, princess.”

“Goodnight, Bell.”

…

Oddly, Clarke doesn’t think Wells looks all that dead. In the coffin, his boyish face looks smooth as ever. Despite the fact that he was in a car accident that took his life, there isn’t a noticeable scratch on him.

She doesn’t know the details of the crash (she didn’t want to), but when they first walked into the church and saw the open casket, Clarke was horrified at what she would find inside.

As they approached, she kept a tight grip on her mother’s arm. When they reached him, however, Clarke only saw Wells laying there serenely.

Clarke is glad she can look upon Wells one last time and still remember him as he’s always been.

She wants to reach in and trace the line of his cheek as she had done so many times in the past. You don’t have the right, a voice in her head reminds her. Instead, Clarke allows herself a final look at her once best friend and lover before moving to greet Thelonius.

The service is a long and ostentatious affair, something Wells surely would have rolled his eyes at. This  thought makes Clarke smile despite herself. 

She’s caught up thinking about Wells reactions to everything when she hears her name mentioned from the altar.

“And now Clarke Griffin has a few words to say about Wells.”

Clarke turns to her mother, who’s urging her up with a tightlipped smile. She looks past her towards Kane, searching in his expression for anything to convey that she doesn’t have to do this. But even Kane is stone-faced and watching her as expectantly as everyone else.

Clarke stands on shaky feet and slowly makes her way towards the altar. The priest steps aside, offering Clarke the podium.

As she looks out into the sea of faces, Clarke is struck by how many of them probably didn’t even know Wells. 

“Um, hi,” she stammers out, immediately regretting not writing something down.

“Wells was my…well, he was my best friend. I’ve known him for longer than I can even remember. I never…I’ve never thought about living in a world where he didn’t.”

Clarke gulps back her tears as it seemed this was the moment that Wells’ death finally struck her.

“For those who knew Wells, I don’t have to tell you how kind and understanding he was. How lucky we all were to have him in our lives, if only for a moment. As painful as this loss is, I wouldn’t trade knowing him.”

As Clarke says all this, she’s struck by how true it is and she aches for her childhood friend. Aches for the Wells who took her to prom, for the boy who held her after her father’s funeral, who stayed up quizzing her for the MCAT until mornings.

She turns to the now closed casket. Without seeing him, it doesn’t make sense that Wells could be in that box.

“I’ll miss him so much,” Clarke says, and then softly adds: “May we meet again.”

Someone leads her back to her pew, Clarke doesn’t notice who. When she’s sitting down, someone else takes her hand. Abby. Clarke squeezes back, eyes remaining steadfastly on the coffin.

…

After shivering in the March air of the graveyard and watching her once-assumed future husband lowered into the earth (though he had always been a staunch advocate of cremation), Clarke isn’t sure how much more she can take.

They’re back at the Jaha residence for the reception. Clarke isn’t sure how anyone is eating the bagels are miniature scones that have been laid out by a high end catering company. Personally, she’s never felt more nauseous in her life. 

Clarke receives hugs and condolences from people who must think she and Wells are- were- still together. They treat her as if she were a young widow.

Clarke wonders what would have happened if She and Wells had never broken up. If he hadn’t told her about his father and nothing had changed.

If this had happened a year ago, the entire world would have stilled. Colors would have faded from trees. Clarke would have been destroyed.

A part of her is.

But all of these ‘what ifs’ lead to the question of whether Wells would have even been in that accident if they had still been together and this weighs too much on Clarke to think about for long.

The reality is what it is. Her and Wells broke up. He had kept something from her for years. Clarke isn’t the same person she was a year ago.

It wasn't Wells she longed for as she sat in the church pews. It wasn't Wells she wanted holding her in the hotel the night before.

While she’s lost in thought, a hand touches her elbow and someone says her name. Thelonius.

“Could I have a moment with you?” He asks. Clarke nods and follows him through the crowd and up the stairs. Just before they reach the door, Clarke realizes he’s leading them to Wells’ bedroom.

Clarke stops as he turns the door handle.

“Thelonius, I-”

“There’s something I want to show you,” he cuts her off.

When he opens the door, Clarke half expects Wells to be waiting for them inside. The room is empty, of course, and impossibly dark. The heavy curtains have all been drawn. Were they like that before?

Thelonius walks over to Wells’ desk, flicks on the lamp and pulls something out of a drawer.

“I found this the other day.” It’s a manilla folder with a smaller white envelope attached to the front. As he returns to her, Clarke can make out her name written in Wells’ meticulous script.

“I didn’t open it,” Thelonius says, handing her the folder. Clarke takes it hesitantly. “If it’s what I think it is, though, I’m sorry, Clarke.”

“What?” Clarke looks up at him in confusion but Thelonius is walking back towards the door. She wants to follow him, but the folder in her hands suddenly feels like a brick and she can’t make her body move.

Clarke runs her fingers over the letters of her own name, heart aching at the familiarity of Wells’ handwriting. Tentatively, she plucks the envelope from the folder and unseals it. 

_Clarke,_

_I know you probably still don’t want to hear from me and I don’t blame you for that. I should have told you what I knew about your father years ago. I know this won’t make up for much now, but this is everything I know. It’ll probably just leave you with more questions, but you deserve to know everything I do._

_We can search for more together, if you’d like. I’m always here. Your father deserved better. If you want to bring this to light, I’m with you._

_Love,_

_Wells_

Clarke drops the letter and hurriedly opens the folder, the contents falling onto Wells’ bedspread. She stares at the various papers for a few minutes, then rereads the letter. She repeats this cycle until she’s sure hours must have gone by.

When she is finally able to return downstairs, however, nothing seems to have changed. 

She finds Abby and Kane to tell them that she’s leaving.

“What?” Abby gives her a concerned look.

“I have to go back to the hotel. I have to figure something out,” Clarke tells her.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Abby notices the file tucked under her arm. “What is that?”

“Wells gave it to me,” Clarke says. “I’ll explain later, but right now I need to go.”

Before either can stop her, Clarke rushes through the rest of the guests to the door.

When she arrives back at the hotel, Clarke begins pouring over the documents.

She’s scanning a phone log when a knock comes on the door. Clarke checks the peephole even though she knows who it is.

Abby and Kane are standing with looks ranging between relief and concern.

“What is going on, Clarke?” Abby asks at the same time Kane asks: “Are you okay?”

“I’m not coming back to New York with you guys,” Clarke tells them. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Abby asks skeptically.

“I need to figure some things out here,” Clarke tries to explain.

“What things?” Kane asks.

“Please,” Clarke stares down her mother. “I’m not having a nervous breakdown or anything. I promise. And I’ll explain everything later, but I have to stay here for now.”

“Fine,” Abby concedes. “I’ll stay with you.”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Abby’s gaze is past Clarke now, no doubt looking at the scattered papers on the bed. “What is this about?”

“Answers,” Clarke says.

“About what?” Kane asks, looking between the two women in confusion. Abby, however, no longer looks that confused.

“Clarke, please,” Abby’s voice is desperate, “let this end.”

Clarke digests her mother’s words and the fear in her eyes. She’s afraid to ask.

“You knew?”

Abby responds with a sigh and a tired look.

“What is she talking about?” Kane asks Abby.

“Why don’t you go get our bags ready?” Abby suggests. Kane seems hesitant to leave them and Clarke silently begs him not to. He acquiesces, though, never one to overstep in their relationship.

After he’s gone, Abby steps closer to Clarke, attempting to place a hand on her shoulder. Clarke brushes her off and holds her gaze.

“Let it go, Clarke,” Abby warns softly. “It won’t change anything.”

The betrayal Clarke felt when Wells first told her what he knew was nothing compared to what Clarke feels now, meeting her mother’s steely eyes.

“How long?”

“Since it happened.”

Clarke takes another step back.

“I was heartbroken and angry too,” Abby tells her, “but I understood how our society works. There was nothing I could have done.”

“Nothing?” Clarke scoffs. “Do you really think Thelonius’ political reputation was worth more than dad’s life?”

“Of course not, but it would have just brought more pain to the situation. I wanted to protect you.”

Ironic, Clarke thinks, I wanted to protect you too.

“You would have let me become the daughter-in-law of the man responsible for my father’s death.”

“You shouldn’t blame, Wells.”

“I didn’t blame him, I just couldn’t trust him after he kept that from me for years. But at least he told me,” Clarke seethes.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Abby warns, “think about your future. You don’t want to go to war with someone as powerful as Thelonius Jaha.”

“You don’t really get to tell me what to do.”

Clarke moves to open the door and waits for Abby to take the hint.

“I understand that you need time to process,” Abby says before she leaves.

Clarke slams the door without answering.

…

Clarke spends the rest of the day pouring over the files, trying not to think about her mother, and crying.

She’s no longer sure if she’s crying for Wells or her father or just the loss of her past.

She turned her ringer off after her mother left and has been afraid to check her phone. When she finally opens it, she’s surprised to find nothing from Abby. There are, however, several messages and calls from Bellamy and the rest of the Ark gang. Even Raven sent her a text inquiring on when she’d be back in New York.

Clarke doesn’t want to leave them in the dark, especially Bellamy, but she can’t bring herself to call him. She needs to decide what to do first. 

She repeats the final words of Wells’ letter over and over: “your father deserved better. If you want to bring this to light, I’m with you.”

…

In the end, it’s Bellamy that brings her home.

Clarke isn't entirely surprised when he knocks on her hotel room door the evening after the funeral. The evening after she learned that her mother was also aware of the true circumstances surrounding her father’s death.

Clarke also isn't entirely surprised by the way he immediately engulfs her in his arms. She barely has time to register his presence before he is wrapped around her, one hand on the back of her head to hold her to his chest.

She is, however, surprised by the tears she can’t control and the way he kisses her face as if in an attempt to stop them.

She tries to tell him everything, but no coherent words leave her mouth and everything sounds strangled and broken.

He leads (practically carries) her to the bed. He shushes her and holds her so tightly that she almost can’t breath. She’s also never felt more secure.

Clarke doesn't remember falling asleep when she wakes up in the morning, tucked securely in her bed with a messy haired professor snoring beside her.

Bellamy has his left arm slung over her hips, his face inches from her.

Clarke turns her body to study him, memorize the freckle patterns and the look of serenity on his face. He stirs under her gaze, slowly opening his eyes to meet her. For a moment, Clarke forgets about Wells and her father and can only see the deep brown irises.

“Hey,” his voice is gravely with sleep but still sounds beautiful to her. He moves the arm from her hip to brush back a strand of hair, cupping her cheek for a moment before settling it back on her waist.

“How’d you find me?” Clarke asks.

“Your mother.”

“She called you?” Another thing that surprises Clarke.

“She was worried. We all were.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “She just said you guys had a fight.”

Clarke surpasses a scoff. She traces a pattern into Bellamy’s chest and prepares herself.   

Then she tells him everything. She tells him about being sixteen and getting the phone call at prom. She tells him everything she thought she knew about the accident. She tells him about Wells’ confession, their breakup, the note, her mother. Everything. 

He listens in silence, but she can tell he’s taking it all in. 

When it’s over (as much as she can pour out), Bellamy spends a few moments deciding what to say.

He goes for: “Man, and I thought my family was messed up.” Clarke laughs despite herself and shoves his chest lightly.

“I know it sounds crazy. Me staying here,” Clarke sighs, “I just wanted to know everything.”

“It’s not crazy.” The earnestness in his voice makes Clarke want to cry for a completely different reason. “Have you decided what you want to do about it?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“It doesn’t really matter though, does it?” Clarke asks.

“What? Learning what Wells’ dad did?”

“Well that, but also bringing it to light. It won’t bring my father back.”

“You don’t think he should have to face what he did?” Bellamy’s tone isn’t accusatory, just curious.

“He’s just lost everything,” Clarke says, “and I think he knew how Wells felt about it. Maybe its enough.”

“So do you want to go home?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke nods, entwining their fingers together on top of the blanket. She stares at their hands. “There’s just one more thing I need to do,” Clarke says. Noting the worry in Bellamy’s eyes, she quickly adds: “Would you come with me?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “I’d go anywhere with you, princess.”

…

It’s still cold in the afternoon sunlight as the enter Arlington. Bellamy wraps an arm around Clarke’s shoulder in an attempt to provide what little warmth and comfort he can.

Clarke hasn’t been here in a few years, but her legs lead them to the grave on muscle memory.

“Hi, dad,” she greets, laying down the small bouquet they’ve just picked up. She kneels down to trace the indentions of his name with her fingers. Bellamy keeps a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry I haven’t come by in a while,” she tells the stone. “A lot has changed recently, I wish I could tell you about it. I wish you could be a part of it.”

Clarke looks up at Bellamy and smiles.

“This is Bellamy,” she introduces. “You’d really like him, dad. He’d really like you.”

Clarke reaches for the hand that’s on her shoulder and Bellamy helps her stand. He tucks her into his side and the two stand contently in the breeze for a few minutes.

“Let’s go home,” Clarke says, slipping her hand into Bellamy’s.

…

Clarke spends most of the three hour train ride sleeping against Bellamy’s shoulder. He spends most of it studying her. When they reach the city its after nine P.M. They hold hands the walk back from the subway station, neither speaking. It isn't an uncomfortable silence like they’ve shared in the past.

When they arrive at the apartment, Octavia immediately pulls Clarke into a long hug. Clarke suddenly realizes how much she’s missed her too, how much she’s missed all of this.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Octavia says when they finally pull apart. _Home_ , Clarke smiles at the sound of it. Bellamy makes pancakes and the three sit up watching the Great British Bake Off until Octavia excuses herself to bed.

When it’s just the two of them again, a feeling of nervousness rises in Clarke’s chest. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, she just spent twenty-four hours alone with Bellamy. She knows why she’s nervous, of course. The lingering questions and lack of clarity on their new relationship. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I know a lot has happened over the past few days,” he begins. “And if you don’t want to do this now or you need more time, I understand and I’ll wait. But I have to say this.”

Clarke nods.

“I tried to tell you that night before you, uh, cut me off,” they both smile at the memory. “The thing is, and you probably already know this because you know me better than I know myself, but I’m in love with you, Clarke.”

Clarke had come to the same conclusion months ago, but hearing one of them actually say it out loud causes Clarke’s heart to drop.

Thankfully, he continues without expecting a response.

“I almost told you before you got into that car with your mother because I wasn’t sure if I could wait two days to say it. Turns out, I’ve been waiting a lot longer. I’ve probably been in love with you since the day you got here. It’s no secret that I can be a total asshole, and you wouldn’t let me get away with it. You won’t let me get away with anything and that is just one of the reasons why I love you.”

“Bell,” Clarke’s suddenly aware that there are tears in her eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he quickly assures, rubbing a tear from her cheek.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she lets out a watery laugh. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in my life right now. Of course I love you, Bellamy. How could I not?”

He finally kisses her like she did that first night and clears her mind of everything except for him.

Bellamy’s hands cup her cheeks, holding her in place as their mouths explore one another. It’s fast and desperate at first but slowly becomes more purposeful. There’s no rush. Not anymore. Hopefully not ever.

When he breathes the three words against her lips, Clarke feels at peace for the first time since receiving her mother’s phone call.

Clarke can think about Thelonius Jaha and worry about her mother later. Right now everything seems right.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever work on AO3 and its really just a series of domestic musings I have.


End file.
